Indus Books 
 
 BOX 812, 
 DAVIS, CALIF.
 
 UCSB LIBRARY
 
 AN .... 
 UNFINISHED 
 SONG
 
 MRS. GHOSAL. 
 (Srimati Svarna Kumari Devi.)
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 
 By 
 
 
 
 Mrs. GHOSAL 
 
 
 
 (Srimati Svartxa 
 Kumari Devi) 
 
 
 
 Author ol 
 
 
 
 "The Fatal Garland," 
 
 
 
 etc. 
 
 
 New York 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
 
 NEW YORK HERALD. Mrs. Ghosal has con- 
 trived in an absorbing narrative to convey to 
 the Western reader a valuable insight into 
 the Hindu nature. 
 
 WESTMINSTER GAZETTE. Mrs. Ghosal, as 
 one of the pioneers of the woman movement 
 in Bengal, and fortunate in her own up- 
 bringing, is well qualified to give this picture 
 of a Hindu maiden's development. 
 
 CLARION. Remarkable for the pictures of 
 Hindu life, the story is overshadowed by the 
 personality of the authoress, one of the fore- 
 most Bengali writers of to-day. 
 
 1st Edition, December, 1913 
 2nd Edition, October, 1914
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THIS is a story of life among the Reformed 
 Party of Bengal, the members of which have 
 to some extent adopted western customs. 
 It shows the change that touch with Europe 
 has brought upon the people of India, but 
 in their inner nature the Hindus are still 
 quite different from western races. The 
 ideals and traits of character that it has 
 taken thousands of years to form are not 
 affected by a mere external change. This 
 story, it is true, touches on one side of 
 Indian life only, for in a small book it is 
 difficult to depict many of the numerous 
 phases of our Society ; still I trust it will 
 give the western reader some insight into 
 the Hindu nature.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 THE author of this book, a high caste Indian lady, 
 is one of the pioneers of the Woman movement in 
 Bengal, indeed the wealthy Tagore family to which 
 she belongs nas done more to raise the standard of 
 the Bengali than any other Indian family. Although 
 brought up strictly on Zenana lines, educated behind 
 the purdah, and married at a very youthful age, 
 Mrs. Ghosal was encouraged both by her father and 
 her husband to develop her unusual powers of mind 
 and character. Her father, Devendra Nath Tagore, 
 was the great religious reformer and founder of the 
 Brahmo Somaj, a society which devotes itself to 
 fostering and preserving all that is high and noble 
 in the Vedic religion. From her father Mrs. Ghosal 
 inherits her passionate love and admiration for 
 her native land, her ardent desire to rouse it from 
 its lethargy, to inspire it to progress, and to help it 
 cast off the yoke of its debasing traditions. 
 
 One of her brothers, Rabindra Nath Tagore, is the 
 foremost Indian poet of to-day, adored by his country- 
 men, and eulogised both in England and America, 
 where his poems have been issued in translated form. 
 Another brother, Dwijendra Nath, founded what is 
 now one of the chief Bengali magazines, which he 
 dedicated to Bharoti, the goddess of Learning ; 
 while her third brother, Satyendra Nath, after visiting
 
 4 INTRODUCTION 
 
 England, set himself to tear down the purdah, to 
 remove from Indian women the many and tremendous 
 disabilities under which they labour ; he has been 
 warmly supported by Mrs. Ghosal, who was one of 
 the first Bengali ladies to mix freely in Society. 
 
 At a very early age Mrs. Ghosal, or, to call her by 
 her beautiful Indian name, Srimati Svarna Kumari, 
 which signifies the Maiden of Gold, showed unusual 
 ability and force of character ; before she was twenty 
 she had published an anonymous novel which 
 became an immediate success, and the revelation of 
 its authorship caused a great sensation, as it was the 
 first time an Indian woman had attempted such a 
 feat. Soon after she took over from her brother the 
 editorship of the magazine " Bharoti," thus becoming 
 the first woman editor in India, and, except for a short 
 interval when her two daughters took it in hand, she 
 has conducted it ever since a period of twenty-five 
 years. Besides her editorial work she has produced 
 novels and short stories, poems, dramas, farces, and 
 popular scientific text books for use in schools. 
 Several of her novels have been dramatised and 
 her plays have been performed before enthusiastic 
 audiences all over India. 
 
 Besides her literary and editorial work she interests 
 herself hi every movement that is set on foot to 
 educate and raise her countrywomen, and has herself 
 founded a Home for Indian widows, for the purpose 
 of providing a refuge for those unfortunates whose 
 relatives, now that old customs are losing ground, no 
 longer feel bound to maintain them ; this Home is 
 directed by one of Mrs. Ghosal's daughters, while 
 her other daughter founded and directs the " All
 
 INTRODUCTION 5 
 
 India Women's Society " for the education of Indian 
 women. Mrs. Ghosal's son holds an important posi- 
 tion in the I.C.S., and is now on a visit to England 
 with his wife, the Princess Sukriri of Cooch Behar. 
 
 Now that her children are married Mrs. Ghosal 
 lives alone in the great Ghosal house, which stands 
 in its large and beautiful grounds, shaded by palm 
 trees and cooled by fountains, on the outskirts of 
 Calcutta. Only a few months ago she lost her beloved 
 husband, her lifelong companion, who shared her 
 convictions and encouraged her in her work. Since 
 then, although she does not adhere to the strict rules of 
 the Hindoo widow, she has withdrawn from Society. 
 She feels that, for her, the joy of life is over. " We shall 
 be reunited in our future births," she says, and this she 
 awaits with calm conviction. She has laid aside her 
 wonderfully embroidered saris with their gold bor- 
 ders ; her magnificent necklaces and bracelets and 
 the splendid jewels that used to fasten her saris on 
 shoulder and breast and in her dark hair she has 
 divided among her daughters and grandchildren, and 
 she now appears clad in flowing garments of soft white 
 silk. She is tall and stately, a veritable " grande 
 dame," her face is noble and expressive of high intel- 
 ligence, and her manner calm and perfectly dignified. 
 
 One day for her is very like another ; she rises at a 
 very early hour, and upon the great terrace in front 
 of the house she recites her morning prayer as the 
 sun rises, endeavouring to " merge her small entity in 
 the great ocean of entities " ; she prays to the 
 Almighty, All Beneficent Power, that good may befall 
 every creature, that wisdom and happiness may be 
 the lot of every soul on its journey up from ignorance
 
 6 INTRODUCTION 
 
 to light. Then she goes to the south verandah where, 
 after drinking a glass of milk, she spends the early 
 morning hours in literary work, revising, editing, 
 correcting and writing. At eleven o'clock she has 
 her daily bath, an important ceremonial in the life 
 of an Indian lady, even her heavy luxuriant hair is 
 washed every day. After a very simple meal she 
 rests and reads the daily papers or a book. At four 
 she has another cup o! milk, and until seven she strolls 
 in her beautiful garden, or receives visitors (or before 
 her husband's death she would drive out in her car 
 and pay visits), and soon after dinner she retires to 
 rest. Although Mrs. Ghosal still wears the native 
 dress and retains all the beauty and comfort that 
 India has to offer her, she does not hesitate to intro- 
 duce European conveniences into her house, and her 
 wide drawing-room contains English chairs and tables. 
 There she receives her friends with generous hospi- 
 tality ; when they first arrive tea is handed to them 
 in pretty Japanese cups, then a number of trays are 
 brought in covered with small dishes containing 
 innumerable delicacies : quaint little cakes, delicious 
 sandwiches, fried rice, biscuits spread with hot cheese, 
 salads, fruit creams and sherbets ; the hostess herself 
 piles her visitors' plates till they pray her to desist, 
 and finally finger bowls are handed round. 
 
 Mrs. Ghosal is a forerunner, a type of the future 
 woman of India, now that education is becoming 
 general. She has not wholly emerged from the seclu- 
 sion of the purdah, there are still many relatives even 
 in Calcutta whose feelings would be grievously hurt 
 by total emancipation, with them she still keeps 
 purdah, the change even in her enlightened family is
 
 INTRODUCTION 7 
 
 going on slowly. Emancipation is not all gain, Mrs. 
 Ghosal thinks ; women behind the purdah lived such 
 peaceful sheltered lives, nothing came near enough 
 to hurt them except the sickness or death of their 
 dear ones ; anxieties passed them by, there was time 
 for everything, no hurry, no striving to be " economi- 
 cally independent," and Mrs. Ghosal, with all her 
 progressive ideas, still preserves the dignified tran- 
 quillity of the purdah nashin lady ; brilliant as she 
 is in the eyes of her countrymen, flattered as she has 
 been, she never asserts herself nor gives an opinion 
 unasked ; and indeed the semi-purdah in which she 
 lives has the great advantage that it affords her 
 abundant opportunity for her literary work and study. 
 Mrs. Ghosal has read and thought deeply ; although 
 she has never been to England she is greatly interested 
 in everything English, and reads many English books ; 
 her favourite author is George Eliot, for whom she 
 has a deep veneration. 
 
 This is the first time that a book of hers has been 
 brought before the English public, and it should be of 
 deep interest to all those who are concerned with the 
 Woman question, for it presents a careful study of the 
 Indian girl at this intensely interesting stage in the 
 history of her development, and particularly of her 
 attitude towards love and marriage ; all that is best 
 in the old traditions of her race still holds her fast, 
 but she is reaching out eager hands for the freedom 
 that will some day be hers. 
 
 E. M. LANG.
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 " Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 
 "Pis woman's whole existence." 
 
 HE who wrote the above lines was a great 
 man. It seems wonderful that a man should 
 have read the inner nature of woman so 
 clearly as to become aware of this subtle 
 fact. In my own life, I feel that every 
 word of it is true. When I retrace the 
 history of my life, as far back as memory 
 carries me, I see that I have always loved ; 
 love and life have been so blended that they 
 became one. And were this love ever 
 taken from me, life would be worthless, a 
 mere blank, my individuality lost. 
 
 What was my age when love first came ? 
 I do not know the day and year of my birth. 
 We had no horoscope cast, my sister and I. 
 Once I found among a pile of waste paper 
 an old note-book of my father's in which 
 the dates of these important events were 
 
 9
 
 io AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 recorded. I tore out the page containing 
 the record and pasted it in the corner 
 of my song book, but the book got lost in 
 course of time as books will. A search 
 was made for it, and all the books I had 
 ever possessed were brought together. The 
 very scribbling block on which I had first 
 practised the art of writing in big letters, 
 from right to left and from left to right, even 
 this appeared, but the song book, the book 
 that was wanted above all others, was 
 never found. Men will smile when I tell 
 them of this lack of knowledge ; they will 
 grow sceptical over my simplicity. But 
 women know what a difficult thing it is for 
 the female memory to retain mere numbers. 
 Both days and years escape them in their 
 flight. We have no trouble in guessing 
 the right day of the week, because weeks 
 are short and quick to recur. But when 
 we are asked the exact date of some bygone 
 event, I would not ask any one to place 
 reliance on our statements. We remember 
 days by events, and only those days interest 
 us on which events took place in which we 
 were concerned. Let me, for instance, 
 recall my sister's marriage. Before my 
 mind's eye appears a moonlight night in the
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 11 
 
 month of Falgoon.* I still see the calm 
 moon in the clear sky. I see a night made 
 bright by the lights and the merriment of 
 the bridal fete. But the full moon and the 
 bridal song did not record numbers. Ask 
 me not for the year, because years are to us 
 only numbers, formless things following 
 each other silently, and like a sage medi- 
 tating on the Being without form or quality, 
 so has the woman to stop and think and 
 count backward and forward and backward 
 again when she wants to trace the year in 
 which a certain event occurred. But there 
 is one thing the great God in His mercy 
 has made impossible for her. She cannot, 
 however hard she may try, count backward 
 to the day of her birth. That event is hap- 
 pily shrouded in oblivion. 
 
 It is all a great riddle, a mystery this 
 birth of man. The constellations are busily 
 at work at a certain moment to prepare a 
 future for him, but he who is most concerned 
 is oblivious to it all. So after all it is no 
 fault of mine if I know not the year in which 
 my life commenced. I seem to remember 
 1882 or 1883, but how far these figures are 
 
 * The first month of the Indian Spring, which begins 
 from the middle of February.
 
 12 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 exact I cannot tell. And after all is there 
 really any one who is the loser by this uncer- 
 tainty ? The loss is neither mine nor the 
 reader's. If the want of knowledge of these 
 three hundred and sixty-five days would 
 shorten or lengthen a man's life to that 
 extent, it would be a different matter. 
 But as it is, man may forget time, but time 
 will never forget man. My age will be 
 the same xvhether I realise it or not, and 
 it does not matter much to the reader if I 
 am twenty instead of nineteen. Let me 
 assume then that I am nineteen in order 
 to settle the question finally. I am still a 
 spinster. This may be a source of surprise 
 to one who understands this land of ours ; 
 but it is gradually changing, for are there not 
 many maids unmarried in this advanced 
 age who count as many years as I do ? 
 And if a surprise it be I have a still greater 
 in store for my readers. I, a Hindu maiden, 
 knew love before I entered wedlock. I 
 loved a man without even expecting him to 
 become my husband. 
 
 I do not remember my mother ; I lost her 
 in my infancy. But my father's devotion 
 offered compensation, and I loved him with 
 a fondness greater than which no child
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 13 
 
 could bestow on its mother. It is often 
 argued that filial and conjugal affection are 
 feelings of a very different nature. But 
 my impression has been just the reverse. 
 Here again I may differ from my reader. 
 What the lover is to youth the parents are 
 to childhood the object of worship and 
 affection, the idol of the heart. It has always 
 seemed to me that a parent is protector 
 and lover blended in one. Towards both 
 we are drawn by the same desire, to make 
 the beloved a part of ourselves, to have 
 complete possession. The disappointment 
 is the same in each case when love is not 
 reciprocated, and we feel an equal readiness 
 to embrace pain and adversity in order to 
 promote the happiness of the beloved. 
 
 I had a sister but we had become some- 
 what estranged from each other. She was 
 four or five years older than I, and lived 
 with our father's sister in Calcutta for her 
 education. I loved my sister dearly, and 
 was delighted whenever she came home on 
 a visit, but if she took up too much of my 
 father's attention, if she claimed his affec- 
 tion in too great a degree, I ceased to appre- 
 ciate her. After dinner my father was in 
 the habit of lying down to enjoy his " gur-
 
 14 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 guri " (large hookah). In this quiet hour 
 he would soon find his little girls on either 
 side of him. When alone with him I used 
 to consider it my special privilege to twine 
 my arms round his neck. In this way I 
 chatted with him, asking every evening 
 anew the same question, " Whom do you 
 love best ? " to which he invariably replied 
 that he loved both alike. But notwith- 
 standing this I used to be quite certain in 
 my mind that he loved me most. " Do you 
 say this because you fear my sister will get 
 angry ? >! I would question. This only 
 made him smile and remain firm in his 
 assertion. 
 
 I still remember the many ways in which 
 I used to show my solicitude for him. If it 
 was cold in winter, his warm clothing was 
 insufficient to keep him warm, it required 
 my little shawl to cover him and protect him 
 from the cold. The punkah coolie could not 
 do his duty in the summer, father would 
 certainly be very uncomfortable unless I 
 plied my little hand-fan to cool him. I 
 remember I used to make cuts in the 
 potatoes, and decorate them after my own 
 fashion, so that they might please him when 
 they were placed before him. Although I
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 15 
 
 often cut my fingers during this performance 
 I could not be induced to abstain from it. 
 If the cook listened to my entreaties to let 
 me put the salt into the curry, I thought how 
 very palatable it now must be for father' 
 If ever he had to hurry off to office without 
 taking the betel I had prepared for him, I 
 would go without food that day. My poor 
 widowed aunt, who superintended our house- 
 hold used to be put to great difficulty 
 because she could get no flowers for her 
 worship; for with the early dawn I was in 
 the garden gathering all the opened buds for 
 father, and no one else dared to claim one. 
 
 I remember that I was ill once while my 
 sister was at home on a visit, and she took 
 upon herself the duty of gathering flowers 
 and presenting them to my father. Oh, 
 how this pained me ; I suffered more from 
 it than from my illness. If I became cross 
 and naughty, nothing would make me 
 behave better so quickly as the threat, " You 
 will not be allowed to rest with your father 
 after dinner to-night." 
 
 I was at most five years old at the time 
 of which I am writing. My young life was 
 inundated with love, and from it I have 
 drawn the conclusion that love is ever the
 
 16 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 same, whether it be between parent and 
 child, brother and sister or youth and 
 maiden. It is born in affection towards 
 the parent, then passing in its development 
 through the stages of love for brothers 
 and sisters, and the fondness of friendship, 
 it finally finds its full expression in the 
 passion of youth and maiden. Just as I am 
 the same individual now that I was in my 
 infancy although I have assumed a different 
 appearance through the growth and expan- 
 sion of body and mind, so love is the same, 
 though it grows, expands and blossoms out 
 from infantile affection into the passion of 
 youth. It can then no longer be sustained 
 by the limited ideas of childhood, it seeks 
 another object to which to attach itself, and 
 as it passes through the different stages the 
 heart learns in the end to yearn after the 
 supreme ideal. That woman is blessed 
 who, having found her idol, surrenders 
 herself in worship to him entirely. That 
 man is blessed who, once installed in the 
 shrine of a consecrated heart, dedicates 
 himself to her and thus justifies the end of 
 life. That love alone is true which, based 
 on self-abnegation, endures in its fullness 
 throughout all time.
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 17 
 
 Thus I love father much even now. I 
 would gladly sacrifice myself to procure his 
 happiness, but he is no longer the only 
 object of my affection, aspiration, desire, 
 worship and contemplation, my only source 
 of happiness. My all-pervading, all-embrac- 
 ing love did not twine around him alone 
 very long. While I was still a child a rival 
 appeared to share it.
 
 CHAPTER II
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 I HAVE not so far disclosed the name of the 
 place where our family lives ; it is in the 
 district of Dacca. My father has a small 
 estate, but his income is mainly derived 
 from service under Government. As long 
 as he could attend to this at home we were 
 very comfortable, but when I was about 
 8 or 9 years old he was transferred to another 
 place. I mentioned before that my sister 
 lived with an aunt in Calcutta, but I had not 
 so far ever lived apart from my father, nor 
 could I have borne the separation. Father 
 accordingly took me with him to his new 
 district. Here the only sort of school 
 was at the house of the Zemindar of the vil- 
 lage for the education of the children of his 
 family, but many of the children of the 
 neighbourhood attended it as well, myself 
 among them. This is a custom generally 
 adopted in India in country districts. In this 
 school I made many warm friendships, but 
 the warmest of all was with Cbotu (little one). 
 
 21
 
 22 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 I did not learn his correct name. Possibly 
 he was called Chotu because he was the 
 youngest of the family, but it never occurred 
 to me that he had another name. He was 
 the nephew of Babu Krishna Mohan, in 
 whose house the school was. The boy had 
 lost his father and was therefore dependent 
 upon his mother's brother. One reason for 
 my friendship with Chotu was his superiority 
 in age. He was the eldest of the pupils 
 and might have been twelve or thirteen 
 years old at the time. There is a strange 
 fascination for children in one of superior 
 age. He was the chief pupil of the school- 
 master, and that worthy used to lighten his 
 labours by entrusting him with the duty of 
 superintending the younger ones. The school 
 was conducted in one of the outer apart- 
 ments of Babu Krishna Mohan's house. It 
 began at half-past seven in the morning and 
 closed at ten. But the pupils were usually 
 on the spot at half-past six, and found Chotu 
 seated on one of the benches. The master 
 did not appear as a rule until an hour after 
 the school had opened, and it was Chotu 
 who took charge of us in the meantime. 
 He explained our lessons to us, wrote the 
 alphabet into our copy books, distributed
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 23 
 
 sweetmeats from a supply in his pocket, and 
 spent the rest of his time getting his own 
 lessons by heart, perhaps humming a song 
 while he did so. This seemed to be a char- 
 acteristic habit of his. At times we used to 
 press him to sing louder for our benefit, but 
 that would end the matter immediately. 
 Only once we heard him distinctly sing a 
 line or two or a song. It was one morning 
 as we were about to enter the schoolroom. 
 One of the little girls, the naughty one, 
 Prabha, had an idea. " Listen," she said, 
 " Chotu is singing. Let us wait and hear 
 him awhile, and after we have learnt what 
 he sings, we will tease him and sing the song 
 before him." 
 
 A day or two before there had been a 
 theatrical company from Calcutta at Babu 
 Krishna Mohan's house on the occasion of 
 his son's marriage. I went to their perform- 
 ance with my aunt, but, unfortunately, I 
 slept through more than half of it. Once 
 I was roused from my sleep by a tremendous 
 noise and saw a Prince dressed in brocade 
 stamping his foot upon the stage in a furious 
 passion and flourishing a wooden sword. 
 I was very frightened but fell asleep again. 
 Later on my aunt woke me to see a number
 
 24 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 of houris suspended in the air, a scene 
 that pleased me. I thought Chotu might 
 have learned his song at this performance : 
 
 " . . . . Alas, we met 
 When moon and stars had faded, 
 Springtime had fled and flowers withered lay, 
 Garland in hand through the dark night I awaited. . . ." 
 
 Having heard Chotu sing thus far we 
 entered the room giggling and laughing at 
 him. Later I regretted I had not listened to 
 the song until it was finished, and looked 
 through numbers of books of poems, but 
 could never find it in print. But now poor 
 Chotu had to endure his tormentors : " We 
 heard you, you thought we would never hear 
 you sing, but we have." Chotu was greatly 
 abashed, but as for me I never forgot those 
 lines, although I only heard them that once. 
 
 Chotu gave away sweetmeats, as I said 
 before. They were not specially good, only 
 what we got every day at home, but when 
 received from his hand, they were like the 
 sweet cakes at horiloot that are thrown 
 broadcast among the people and are sup- 
 posed to contain special merit. 
 
 Now these sweetmeats were supposed to 
 be the reward of good conduct, but soon 
 became the reverse in my case. If Chotu
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 25 
 
 had occasion to chide me for any naughtiness 
 my eyes filled with tears and my gaiety 
 changed very suddenly. This seemed to be 
 more than Chotu could bear, and contrary 
 to all rules he would give me a much larger 
 share of the coveted sweets, adding caresses 
 to the bountiful gift. This unfortunately 
 did not make a better girl of me. I do not 
 know whether the sweets or the caresses 
 were at fault, but certainly my caprices 
 increased. I would give a wrong answer 
 even when I knew my lesson well. If 
 Chotu came to examine my writing I would 
 spill a drop of ink on his hand and laugh out- 
 right at what I had done. If he explained 
 a sum on the blackboard, I considered it a 
 special joke to rub out the chalk and wipe it 
 over him. If on these occasions he showed 
 any annoyance, I invariably resorted to 
 tears, but if he entered into the spirit of the 
 thing and retorted with further pranks my 
 merriment knew no bounds. The result 
 of it all was that Chotu's position as a 
 schoolmaster must have been wellnigh un- 
 bearable to him, for all the children gradu- 
 ally followed my example, and there used to 
 be lively scenes in the little schoolroom. 
 My father no longer received the choicest
 
 26 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 flowers, for one bunch was given to Chotu 
 every day in return for his sweetmeats and 
 kind treatment. When I questioned in 
 my own little heart which afforded me the 
 greater pleasure, the gift of flowers to father 
 or to Chotu, I was unable to answer. If 
 in the early morning I found a bud that 
 specially pleased me, the thought of father 
 and of Chotu entered my mind at the same 
 moment. I was anxious to see Chotu every 
 morning, but at dusk I waited as eagerly for 
 my father's return. I seemed to love him 
 most with whom I was for the time being. 
 I became more emphatic in assuring my 
 father how deeply I loved him, at which 
 he was evidently amused, for he usually 
 replied by saying, 
 
 "Do you really?" 
 
 " Truly, father, I mean it." 
 
 Then my father would smile and kiss me. 
 Now Chotu had never yet kissed me, so 
 surely it was father who loved me most. 
 Then why should I bestow so much affection 
 upon Chotu ? For love expects love in 
 return ; of this I was convinced even in my 
 infancy, although no one had told me so. 
 
 Thus passed two years, years so happy and 
 full of childish delights. Often in later life
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 27 
 
 how I recalled those days when I studied 
 with Chotu in the little country school. 
 Ten years have passed since then. I have 
 known the fiery passion of youth. Mighty 
 joys and sorrows, ambitions and aspirations 
 have come and gone, yet lingers still the 
 memory of those days, the memory of the 
 love of my early life, when such happiness 
 was mine as I have never known since, 
 because it was unmixed with any sorrow. 
 But life has ever been a vast riddle to me. 
 After two years my father was again 
 transferred, and about that time my sister's 
 marriage took place.
 
 CHAPTER III
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 I SAW Him first at my sister's house at a 
 tennis party. My sister's husband is a 
 barrister who took his degree in England. 
 He has a small party at his house every week 
 for tennis. He, too, has been abroad, and 
 is distantly related to my brother-in-law. 
 
 So I met him and fell in love with him at 
 first sight, I hear my credulous reader laugh- 
 ingly assert. No, not that, far from it. 
 I am not recording a romance ; we only 
 became acquainted. I saw him look at me 
 and smile, and then turning to my sister, 
 he remarked in a low tone, " You are keeping 
 a jewel concealed in a mine, and letting 
 a lotus fade away in a wooden box." 
 
 My name is Mrinalini (Lotus), but they 
 call me Moni (Jewel). I overheard his 
 remark, and it jarred on me. My brother- 
 in-law, however, took it up and gave a whole 
 verse of poetry in reply : 
 
 " Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 
 The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear. 
 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air."
 
 32 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 Brothers and sisters-in-law in this country 
 have the time-honoured privilege of teasing 
 and joking with one another as much as 
 they like. But, alas for poor me ! I was 
 so shy, and so unequal a match for him, 
 that all I could do was to smile pleasantly 
 and grumble inwardly the whole time. 
 
 Then there was my sister's brother-in-law, 
 who had taken his M.A. degree in Sanskrit 
 and would not let the opportunity pass of 
 showing off his learning. So he replied with 
 a Sanskrit quotation, which meant that a 
 jewel does not seek anyone, it has to be 
 sought. 
 
 Everyone smiled, but I did not enjoy the 
 joke at my expense, nor look with special 
 favour upon the man who had occasioned 
 it. However, this was before tennis began, 
 and the feeling was modified later on. After 
 play was over the guests assembled in the 
 drawing-room, and he was asked to sing. 
 He consented, and sang an English song. 
 But my sister was not satisfied, and urged 
 him to sing in Bengali. He made some objec- 
 tions and apologies, but finally yielded. 
 But what was this ? The song he sang 
 was the same I had heard Chotu sing in the 
 schoolroom of my childhood :
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 33 
 
 " Alas, we met 
 
 When moon and stars had faded, 
 
 Spring-time had fled and flowers 
 
 Withered lay." 
 
 But I heard it clearly now, no longer in the 
 humming tone in which Chotu used to sing 
 it. His voice blended with the notes of the 
 piano and filled the house with sweet melody. 
 I stood spellbound and listened like one 
 in a trance. I drank in every word of the 
 song as one parched with thirst will drink 
 without breathing when at last he finds the 
 spring he sought. 
 
 Alas, this is a world of disappointment, 
 seldom here do we get what we long 
 for in its entirety. Scarcely was the song 
 begun when it was interrupted. A friend 
 of the family, Mr. Mullick, entered the 
 drawing-room, accompanied by his wife and 
 daughter. Both the player and the singer 
 left their places and joined in greeting the 
 visitors. This formality ended, the singer 
 was urged to finish his song, but he refused. 
 Miss Mullick was reputed to be a good singer ; 
 every one, except me, urged her to sing, 
 and she remained at the piano till the time 
 came for us to break up shortly afterwards. 
 
 Miss Mullick, or Kusum as we called her,
 
 34 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 had hardly any chance of entering a protest 
 in her modest way. She sang, and the 
 listeners were so charmed that they urged 
 her to sing again and again. 
 
 The mellow harmony of Ku sum's voice, 
 however, was lost on me. I heard only one 
 song and the music of that dwelt in my 
 heart : 
 
 " Alas, we met 
 
 When moon and stars had faded, 
 
 Spring-time had fled and flowers 
 
 Withered lay." 
 
 The music ceased in time. The guests 
 departed and the house was quiet once 
 more. But the song that had entered my 
 soul rang through me still, and even in my 
 dream that night I heard it, and saw the 
 schoolroom of my childhood once more, 
 now filled, so it seemed, with the furniture 
 of my sister's drawing room ; a party of 
 guests had assembled, and I thought I 
 heard some one sing the same sweet song, 
 not softly humming as of old, but singing 
 with a full and manly voice, while his 
 beautiful eyes were fixed on me in a loving 
 
 look 
 
 " Alas, we met 
 
 When moon and stars had faded, 
 Spring-time had fled and flowers 
 Withered lay."
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 35 
 
 The music of that song and the deep 
 tenderness of those eyes fixed upon me sent 
 a thrill of delight through me and I awoke 
 and found it was dawn. 
 
 I wished to hear that song again and 
 again. It seemed I had no other wish. On 
 that account alone did I look forward to 
 next week's tennis party. The day came, 
 the guests assembled, but the singer of that 
 song of mine was absent. This was a source 
 of great disappointment to me. At the 
 dinner table I ventured to enquire. 
 
 " Why has not Mr. Roy been here to- 
 day ? " 
 
 My sister reiterated my question. " I 
 was thinking of the same thing," she said. 
 " Why did not Mr. Roy come ? " 
 
 This gave my brother-in-law a chance for 
 a joke. "Indeed! Well, had he known he 
 would be missed so much, he would surely 
 have come. Shall I send for him ? ' : 
 
 This was all lost on me. I was attracted 
 to the singer, not to the man, and so I an- 
 swered unabashed. 
 
 " Yes send for him, he sings well. I wish 
 to hear him sing once more." 
 
 I had no motive other than to hear the 
 song, but I soon saw that they had, for my
 
 36 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 sister replied eagerly, " Romanath has called 
 several times, but we have never yet invited 
 him to dine. We ought to do so." My 
 brother-in-law agreed very readily. Mr. 
 Roy was accordingly invited and came in due 
 course. 
 
 When 1 saw him again, I was somewhat 
 disappointed. I had seen him only once 
 before, and his personality had not made a 
 very lasting impression upon me. Meanwhile 
 ten or twelve days had elapsed. During 
 this time, my fancy had been busy. I had 
 imagined him to be like the vision I had seen 
 in my dream. Though I did not remember 
 the features I saw in my dream vision, I 
 recalled the deep and loving look. 
 
 The man I met at dinner was certainly 
 handsome. He had finely cut aristocratic feat- 
 ures, a well-shaped head with beautiful hair, 
 and he wore a glossy jet black moustache, 
 but his eyes ah, there lay the difference ! 
 They had not that tender, fond expression 
 I had seen in my dream. In his conver- 
 sation, too, I searched in vain for the ideal. 
 His humour seemed very forced. He paid 
 many compliments which seemed uncalled 
 for, jarring on a Hindu maiden's ears. It 
 was, perhaps, my untrained taste that was
 
 37 
 
 at fault. For how could one who had so 
 long been accustomed to the best English 
 society show other than good manners ? 
 
 In the course of conversation my sister 
 enquired the reason of his absence from last 
 week's tennis party. 
 
 He had accepted an invitation to the 
 Mullicks that day, he explained. 
 
 " I had refused them so often," he con- 
 tinued, " that I had not the heart to do so 
 again. Did you really expect me ? If I 
 had known that I would sooner have sacri- 
 ficed a thousand Mullicks." 
 
 " I say, Romanath," broke in my brother- 
 in-law, " don't get so very eloquent, it 
 might make me jealous, you know." 
 
 " What songs had you after dinner ? " 
 my sister enquired. " Does not Miss Mul- 
 lick sing well ? ' : 
 
 Mr. Roy smiled as he replied, 
 
 " Yes at least that is her reputation, the 
 general belief. What a lovely colour, it 
 suits your complexion beautifully." 
 
 The last remark applied to the colour I 
 wore. My seat at the table was beside him, 
 but no conversation of any importance 
 passed between us. My brother-in-law con- 
 versed with him on political topics. He spoke
 
 38 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 to me at intervals, but we did not get far 
 beyond questions and answers. " Could I 
 sing ? " " Did I read poetry ? " " What 
 poet was my favourite ? J: " How long did 
 I expect to remain at my sister's ? " 
 
 In return I expressed my admiration of 
 his song, and most sincere I was when I 
 expressed it. Possibly he was pleased, 
 for he replied, " I do not know many 
 Bengali songs, I see I must learn them 
 now." 
 
 This was the only remark I heard him 
 make that seemed agreeable to me ; I 
 thought he spoke sincerely then. 
 
 After dinner he sang again, 
 
 " Alas, we met 
 
 When moon and stars had faded, 
 Spring-time had fled and flowers withered lay. 
 Garland in hand through the dark night I awaited 
 The bridegroom who would come when all was bright 
 
 and gay. 
 Then the house would be filled with fragrance and 
 
 soft music, 
 And the mellow flute the tune of Sahana 1 would 
 
 play." 
 
 The song was over, but to me it was 
 unfinished, something was left out. I was 
 charmed but not satisfied. 
 
 1 The tune played at weddings.
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 39 
 
 He then approached me, as ever, with a 
 compliment on his lips. 
 
 " I wish I were an artist, I would paint you 
 as I see you now." This time I was not 
 annoyed ; he seemed no longer a stranger to 
 me. Of a sudden the dream vision and he 
 were blended into one. And I saw whom ? 
 Him or another ?
 
 CHAPTER IV
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 I FELT like one mesmerised, and this condi- 
 tion was repeated every time he called at 
 the house. When I received him, I was 
 perfectly indifferent, even in conversation. 
 I felt towards him as a mere acquaintance, 
 but when he began to sing my whole nature 
 changed. It was ever the same song, and 
 that song was the enchantress. I resolved 
 not to ask him to sing again, but when the 
 time came I could not resist. The strange 
 fascination of the song lay in its power 
 to bring back to my memory the days 
 of my childhood. It poured a flood of 
 feeling over me that awoke the dormant 
 emotions of the maiden, and ere the song 
 was ended, it created a vortex in which I 
 felt myself carried into the realm of the 
 ideal, searching for something I knew and yet 
 I knew not. I was lost in an intense longing ; 
 it seemed as if a god had taken possession 
 of him who sang. Anon as I listened to the 
 melody it broke the barriers of time until 
 
 43
 
 44 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 the past and the present were blended and 
 the singer himself became identified with 
 one I had known of old, until I felt as if I 
 were walking in a trance. 
 
 Nor was the spell broken by his departure ; 
 I often remained in a partial stupor during 
 the entire night. Waking or sleeping I 
 could not banish that song from my heart. 
 In a day or two, however, I usually man- 
 aged to master myself, and when I met him 
 again after a week or, perhaps, sooner, I 
 was perfectly self-controlled. Still I was 
 shy on receiving him, because I remembered 
 the spell his music exercised over me. My 
 condition became an enigma to me. As the 
 sky assumes different colours before and 
 after sunset, so did my whole nature change 
 with the coming and disappearance of the 
 effect that that song had over me. 
 
 Gradually, however, this condition be- 
 came permanent, and I began to realise the 
 thoughts of others. There was but one 
 opinion, one influence around me this 
 man was to be my husband, and to the 
 thoughts of those surrounding me I yielded 
 as every maiden of Bengal would yield. 
 
 No Westerner can realise what a powerful 
 influence matrimony has upon the life of a
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 45 
 
 Hindu woman. Her husband is the repre- 
 sentation of the Divine on earth to her, the 
 object of her worship. There can be no 
 mistake whoever he may be ; he is the only 
 one, and none other ever dare claim a thought 
 in her mind. She has been trained in this 
 conviction throughout the ages until it has 
 moulded her nature and is in itself enough 
 to awaken her love and foster it. 
 
 Wherever I went I heard this one theme. 
 My girl friends joked me about him. Older 
 people discussed the matter freely with my 
 sister even in my presence. My sister and 
 brother-in-law let no opportunity pass of 
 expressing their joy at my future happi- 
 ness, sometimes jokingly, sometimes in 
 serious conversation. There was no ground 
 for thinking even in my imagination that 
 this marriage would not take place, espe- 
 cially since he himself strengthened the 
 conviction from day to day. His visits 
 became more frequent, his attentions more 
 pronounced. That he had not so far pro- 
 posed to me, seemed to me due to a desire 
 on his part to understand my feeling to- 
 wards him better. 
 
 Love creates love, there is no other power 
 so potent. When the heart is not occupied
 
 46 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 with other aspirations, it can soon be won 
 over to love. As long as he who woos is not 
 repulsive to the maiden of his choice he has 
 little difficulty in awaking sympathy in her 
 heart, and sympathy will grow into love 
 ere long. There is always the desire in the 
 female breast to make another happy by 
 self-abnegation, for love is woman's whole 
 nature, its desires and aspirations are her 
 life blood. This ideal may carry her to the 
 very gates of Heaven or, alas, if it is mis- 
 placed, if it finds not the right support, it 
 may drag woman very low, and when she 
 sins, it is because she has loved too much, 
 trusted too much and desired to sacrifice 
 herself to her devotion. 
 
 He gradually became to me the perfect 
 ideal realised. His manly bearing, his 
 engaging manners, these won my heart. I 
 became proud of the fact that one so wonder- 
 ful should have chosen me as the object of 
 his love. Nor did the period of uncertainty 
 last long. The day came when he told me 
 what was in his heart, the day to which I had 
 learned to look forward with pleasing antici- 
 pations but ! 
 
 I was gathering flowers in the garden. It 
 was evening, and just after a rain-shower.
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 47 
 
 The air was doubly refreshing, and the 
 flowers more beautiful. The setting sun 
 illuminated the western sky with crimson 
 glory, and reflected its hues on the clouds 
 and on the garden in which I stood. I tried 
 to pluck a rose but pricked my fingers. 
 Just then my attention was arrested by a 
 carriage entering the compound. It was 
 he, and he came near and secured the obstin- 
 ate rose for me. 
 
 " For whom are you plucking these 
 flowers ? " he questioned softly. 
 
 Yes, for whom was I plucking these 
 flowers ? That question I had revolved 
 in my own mind ever since I came into the 
 garden. In my childhood I had gathered 
 flowers, but there was no question about it 
 then, they were for Chotu, but for whom 
 were these ? I could not give them to Mr. 
 Roy, however hard I might try. 
 
 " For my sister " I faltered shyly. I 
 heard him sigh and then he picked a 
 rose, the most beautiful one to be seen, 
 put it into my hand, and repeated a 
 verse : 
 
 " A lamp is lit in woman's eye, 
 That souls else lost on earth 
 Remember angels by."
 
 48 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 I blushed and invited him to enter the 
 house. 
 
 " Go first and I will follow you," was his 
 reply. " Do you remember you have prom- 
 ised to sing to-night ? " 
 
 We went upstairs. My brother-in-law 
 had not returned home, and letting my sister 
 know through a servant that Mr. Roy had 
 come, I entered the drawing-room with him. 
 
 He urged me to take my place at the piano 
 and sing. " Please do sing," he said, " the 
 song I love, ' Oh, mellow night with moon- 
 light softly shining.' ' 
 
 But I decided since this was a song that 
 appealed to the night, it might better be 
 sung later in the evening. He left the 
 matter to my choice, selecting, however, 
 another of his favourites. 
 
 " Sing ' Sweet Bird of Beauty ' ; you 
 know the poem, I suppose ? " 
 
 And then he recited the words, 
 
 " To me there is but one place in the world. 
 
 And that is where thou art ; 
 
 For wherever I may be, 
 My love doth find its way 
 
 Into thy heart, 
 
 As doth a bird 
 Into her secret nest. 
 
 Then sit and sing, 
 
 Sweet bird of beauty, sing."
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 49 
 
 I urged him in return to sing to me, I 
 wished to hear it. He took no notice of my 
 request, but replied, 
 
 " I like one of Shelley's poems greatly, you 
 must have read it. 
 
 ' We, are we not as notes of music are 
 To one another though dissimilar T 
 Such difference without discord as can make 
 Those sweetest sounds in which all spirits shake, 
 As trembling leaves in a continuous air ? ' " 
 
 I remained silent, but he spoke again. 
 " I once thought," he continued, " that all 
 good poems were more or less hollow, that 
 they were devoid of truth and consisted of 
 mere fantasies, but I have learned to feel 
 that I was mistaken. How do they appeal 
 to you ? " 
 
 " I have not thought about them in that 
 way. I read poems and like them. That 
 is all I know." 
 
 " But," he argued, " unless you feel 
 them to be true can you appreciate their 
 beauty ? In earlier days I used to be dis- 
 pleased with a love story because it seemed 
 to me untrue and impossible. I see differ- 
 ently now ; I now understand that 
 
 ' There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, 
 Than ar dreamt of in your philosophy.'
 
 50 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 I never would have thought that I would 
 learn to realise all this in my own life." 
 
 Then he turned towards me with eyes rilled 
 with sorrow and softly whispered : 
 
 " ' To see her is to love her, and love but her forever.' 
 
 Must I speak more plainly still ? 
 
 f To see you is to love you, 
 And love but you forever.' " 
 
 He was interrupted by my brother-in- 
 law, who entered the room just then in a gay 
 mood. 
 
 " Hallo," he ejaculated, " how long have 
 you been here ? Just winding up the 
 game ? Final proposal in poetry, it seems. 
 Hurrah, let me congratulate you." 
 
 Mr. Roy was somewhat abashed at this 
 unexpected intrusion, but in a minute he 
 was master of the situation. 
 
 " You are very late in returning this even- 
 ing," he said calmly. " We were whiling 
 away the time as best we could. By the 
 by, did you win that murder-case of yours ? 
 Did you get that poor fellow off ? " 
 
 To an advocate no subject is so welcome 
 as a talk about his cases, and my brother- 
 in-law forgot everything else at this ques- 
 tion. The two discussed the case. Mean-
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 51 
 
 while I was like one in a dream. I tried to 
 think. He had expressed his feelings for 
 me, was I happy now ? The voice of my 
 heart did not reply. Something displeased 
 me, I knew not what, but I recalled my 
 first meeting with him and remembered that 
 I had experienced a similar feeling then. 
 There was something in it that jarred upon 
 me. I was surrounded by happiness, all 
 was beauty ; I did not deny that. I felt 
 like one into whose cup of nectar a drop of 
 poison has fallen. The light of my heart 
 became suddenly dimmed, I knew not why. 
 It dawned upon me that this was not what 
 I had longed for, it was all so short of my 
 expectations. 
 
 While I was absorbed in my thoughts and 
 the others talked, the servant came in with 
 two cards and announced the arrival of a 
 client and a visitor. My brother-in-law 
 took up the cards, and exclaimed, " The 
 doctor, Binoy Kumar Chaudhury. Moni, go 
 and call your sister. Show him in, Durwan." 
 
 I went, and hardly had I crossed the 
 threshold when I heard the voice of the 
 visitor. Curiosity got the better of me and 
 I stopped to have a glance at him through 
 the partially drawn curtains. My brother-
 
 52 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 in-law had already left the room to see his 
 client, and the newcomer was left alone 
 with my lover. It was thus that I over- 
 heard a most extraordinary conversation. 
 The doctor spoke first. 
 
 " By the way, I met Miss K. just before 
 leaving England. She seemed very anxious 
 to know whether you had arrived safely 
 and why you had not sent her the money 
 for her passage out to India. You know her 
 relatives will have nothing to do with her 
 since her engagement to you. So the 
 poor girl . . ." 
 
 I began to tremble, and it required a 
 great effort to keep on my feet. 
 
 " Nonsense," replied Mr. Roy, " there 
 never was a formal engagement. I thought 
 that affair was a thing of the past. For 
 goodness' sake don't start the subject 
 here, my friends might consider me a villain 
 if they heard of it." 
 
 " What else can you make yourself out 
 to be ? " was the doctor's firm reply. " Do 
 you consider it honourable conduct to 
 forsake a young girl who trusted you ? 
 Before God you were man and wife." 
 
 I do not know what happened after this. 
 I fell fainting to the ground.
 
 CHAPTER V
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 WHEN I recovered consciousness, I saw a 
 pair of tender eyes resting anxiously and 
 lovingly upon me. Once again that strange 
 enchantment took hold upon me when I 
 confounded past and present, when the days 
 of my childhood seemed so near, so real 
 that I felt myself moving in the scenes of 
 early days, surrounded by the love that 
 then was mine. Ah, the look of tender 
 love was there that I had seen in the eyes 
 of my childhood's friend, that look for 
 which in vain I had sought in the eyes of 
 my lover. The delusion lasted a moment 
 only, and I saw it was not he, but the doctor 
 who was bending over me. 
 
 " Thank God, the danger is passed, she 
 is saved," I heard him say. 
 
 My sister sat beside me. She looked 
 like one who had undergone suffering and 
 fatigue. Her voice was weak and nervous 
 as she spoke. She held medicine to my 
 lips and urged me to take it. 
 
 55
 
 56 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 I could not realise the situation. " Why 
 must I take medicine ? " I questioned. 
 " Am I ill ? " 
 
 My brother-in-law replied, I saw he 
 made an effort to be cheerful, " There 
 is nothing the matter with you. It is not 
 medicine we are offering you, only a little 
 sherbet ; do take it." And turning to the 
 doctor he continued, " Romanath is anxious 
 to see her, may he do so ? " 
 
 " It would be better not to disturb her 
 for a while," was the doctor's reply. " She 
 requires sleep to recover her nerves. Let 
 us retire. Her sister then may lull her to 
 sleep. There is no necessity for my remain- 
 ing here any longer. With your per- 
 mission I will call and see her to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " Certainly," replied my brother-in-law. 
 " What should we have done if you had not 
 been here to-day ? I don't know how to 
 thank you." 
 
 These last words were said as the doctor 
 left the room. I was most uneasy in mind. 
 Some feeling weighed me down like a 
 heavy load, and finally found vent in a 
 flood of tears. I knew not what came 
 over me but my fond sister was there to
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 57 
 
 comfort me, and against her loving heart 
 I rested my weary head, asking the one 
 question that occurred to me, 
 
 " Am I going mad, sister ? J: 
 
 Dear, kind sister, how tenderly she 
 caressed me, how solicitous she was of my 
 well-being. 
 
 " Do not talk, Moni, darling," she urged 
 gently, " the doctor has recommended sleep. 
 Rest quietly and you will fall asleep soon," 
 and passing her hand tenderly over my 
 head, she tried to soothe my excited nerves. 
 
 I endeavoured to be calm but could not 
 check the flood of my tears. I could not 
 understand the cause of my sadness. Why 
 I wept I knew not, for I was conscious of 
 neither pleasure nor pain yet I continued 
 sobbing like a child. At last I fell asleep, 
 fondled by my sister's loving hand. Through- 
 out the entire night I was haunted by 
 restless dreams, my sleep was not peaceful. 
 I was like one lying in a trance. I was 
 awake and yet the nightmare of weird 
 dreams surrounded me. It seemed as if 
 all the events of my life crowded into my 
 brain at once and then left it as quickly, 
 leaving behind a sensation of peculiar 
 emptiness. I found myself talking to some
 
 58 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 one, who suddenly changed into another. 
 Again, I was dressing to go visiting but 
 could not finish my toilet. I went to secure 
 a carriage, but could not find one. I began 
 to walk and walk but reached no destination, 
 or if I did reach it, I was confused about the 
 house I was to enter. Thus the night was 
 spent in a whirlpool of confused imaginings. 
 Only towards morning I had a vivid dream 
 and I remembered it on waking. I dreamt 
 my marriage was being performed, and I 
 looked wistfully at the bridegroom, but 
 thought that it was not he for whom my 
 soul had yearned. The thought seemed to 
 break my heart, and I cast my eyes down. 
 Then I saw his feet and instantly I realised 
 that it was he after all. Suddenly a divine 
 happiness flowed into my being and in my 
 ecstasy I called out, " It is he, it is he." 
 The sound of my own voice startled me, 
 and I awoke. The day was already ad- 
 vanced and I felt relieved and stronger, 
 notwithstanding the haunting nightmare. 
 Still I was not myself, the illusion had not 
 entirely departed. 
 
 I thought I heard again the conversation 
 between the doctor and Mr. Roy, and the 
 strange experience that I underwent made
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 59 
 
 me imagine I was another being from what 
 I had been yesterday, and that the con- 
 ditions of yesterday had disappeared and 
 to-day was another world. My heart was 
 filled with disappointment ; still I knew not 
 that anguish, that intolerable pain of which 
 I have heard those tell who have had a 
 similar experience. Nor was I carried away 
 by that ideal faith that, however depraved 
 he might be whom I was to wed, he was my 
 husband now and forever, and that I must 
 worship him, be the conditions what they 
 might. Deceived by him whom I had 
 trusted so intensely I felt as did the beggar 
 saint Durbassa who, when asking the love- 
 stricken Sakuntala for alms, was roused to 
 anger because she noticed him not. Even 
 so my pride was wounded, and I began to 
 loathe the deceiver. My indignation turned 
 upon myself as well. Why had I been so 
 blind as to take a renegade for a god ? 
 Still I felt a grim pleasure at being dis- 
 illusioned, for now I knew him as he really 
 was, and from this man my thought wan- 
 dered to the other, whom only yesterday I 
 had seen for the first time, the doctor, who 
 had attended me while I was unconscious and 
 the light of whose eyes had welcomed me
 
 60 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 back to life. I saw the difference between 
 the two. I realised in the latter a strong 
 and manly character that claimed respect 
 from all with whom it came into touch. 
 
 Thus passed the day. I felt my strength 
 returning gradually. After dusk my sister 
 again sat beside me, and seeing me much 
 improved she began to speak to me of my 
 ailment, tenderly questioning me of the 
 cause that had brought on yesterday's 
 attack. 
 
 " You have not had an attack of hysteria 
 for a long time " she began. " We thought 
 you were cured. I am afraid you have 
 stayed up late at night reading novels. 
 Moni, will you never learn to take care of 
 yourself ? Really if you are indifferent as 
 regards yourself, you ought to be careful 
 for the sake of those who are so anxious 
 about you." 
 
 I assured her I had not been at all 
 careless. 
 
 " Why then, this sudden relapse ? Oh, 
 Moni, if I could tell you what anxiety we 
 suffered yesterday ! Oh, the terror that 
 took hold of me when I found you lying 
 in the corridor. I called out for help and the 
 two visitors who were in the drawing-
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 61 
 
 room came to the rescue. Fortunately 
 the doctor was at hand ; what would 
 have happened otherwise I do not know. 
 Oh, how pale and wretched poor Romanath 
 looked. When we brought you into your 
 own room you know he could not very 
 well come in to see you, because the doctor 
 did not wish any disturbance I was told 
 he went home looking terribly sad and 
 dejected." 
 
 My sister's expression of confidence in 
 this man sounded like irony to me. 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " he may have been 
 dejected, but there is another cause for it 
 besides my illness. Sister, we have been 
 sadly deceived. He is not an honest man, 
 and now he has been found out. That is 
 why he appeared dejected." 
 
 Again my eyes overflowed with tears, 
 burning tears of anger. My sister became 
 anxious. 
 
 " I do not understand what you mean, 
 child. Did he tell you anything yesterday ? 
 Now do not weep, it will excite you, and 
 you may get ill again. Try to be calm and 
 tell me what has happened." 
 
 I then controlled myself and as calmly 
 as I could I told my sister all I had heard
 
 62 
 
 while standing near the door. It made, 
 however, no deep impression on her ; she 
 acted like one from whom a great anxiety 
 had been suddenly removed, and with a 
 sigh of relief she replied, 
 
 " Oh, is that all ? I have been so nervous. 
 I cannot describe to you the state of my 
 anxiety." 
 
 This was more than I had expected of 
 my sister. She surprised me disagreeably, 
 and my reply was quick and fretful. 
 
 " What do you mean, sister ? Are you 
 taking this matter lightly ? The man is 
 engaged to be married to one and proposes 
 marriage to another is not this serious 
 enough ? " 
 
 My sister was not convinced. " You 
 are taking entirely too serious a view of 
 the matter," she said. " As for me I do 
 not doubt in the least that he loves you. 
 Don't worry yourself about that affair in 
 England. Supposing there really was some 
 talk of marriage between him and some 
 one else, what is the use of fretting about 
 it ? He is not married, and you know 
 very well that engagements are broken 
 every day. Not long ago the marriage 
 of my husband's cousin was broken
 
 6 3 
 
 off even after the betrothal ceremony had 
 been performed. Then think of marriage 
 between a Bengali and an English girl. 
 Just realise the difference in their habits and 
 customs. Two people may become infatu- 
 ated and yield to their emotions on the 
 impulse of the moment, but they certainly 
 learn to regret their folly when they come 
 to reason about the matter. If the object 
 of marriage is the promotion of mutual 
 happiness, then such a marriage as this 
 would be a decided failure. Under such 
 circumstances I consider it far wiser to break 
 off an engagement than to yield to a foolish 
 and mistaken sentiment. And remember 
 the happiness of .the girl in question was 
 involved as well as his, and should he 
 sacrifice her life ? " 
 
 I had not the patience to listen further. 
 
 " Are you quite certain," I interrupted, 
 " that he did it out of solicitude for the 
 girl ? Do you not understand that she has 
 given up everything for this man, that she 
 trusts him, and is waiting to hear from 
 him ? In the meantime he deliberately 
 breaks his troth and seeks the hand of 
 another. Is this worthy of the dignity 
 of manhood ? I am really at a loss to
 
 64 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 understand how you can take such a calm 
 view of the matter ? " 
 
 " Let me explain to you my reason for 
 this," was my sister's calm reply. " You 
 know that English girls are notorious for 
 priding themselves on being able to capti- 
 vate the affections of men, and I really 
 think the poor fellow fell a victim to one 
 of them. We should pity him rather than 
 condemn. I am quite certain if we question 
 him about it, we shall get a satisfactory 
 reply." 
 
 " Do you expect me to refer to the matter 
 when I see him ? " 
 
 " You will not have to, he will do it 
 himself. If not, your brother-in-law and 
 I will speak to him. It is but natural, since 
 you are engaged to be married to him, that 
 we should ask him for an explanation." 
 
 " The marriage has not been settled 
 yet," I rejoined, " and I have no desire 
 for it either." 
 
 My sister looked amazed and exclaimed, 
 " Have you gone mad ? You wish to break 
 off the engagement for so slight a cause ? 
 Now don't get any foolish notions into 
 your head. Don't you understand that 
 you will be disgraced in Society if you do
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 65 
 
 so ? He is a man, to him a broken engage- 
 ment does not mean much, but when I 
 think of your fate, I grow very nervous. 
 There will be so much gossip about you, 
 I don't think we shall be able to marry 
 you at all." 
 
 " What if I remain unmarried ? I am 
 not very anxious for wedlock." 
 
 " Now in the name of justice," my sister 
 urged, " let me appeal to you not to take 
 any foolish step. If you wilfully refuse 
 to marry this man, will you not commit 
 the very wrong of which you are accusing 
 him ? Will you not ruin the life of one 
 who loves you, and that for a fancied 
 reason ? " 
 
 " Fancied reason ! " I reiterated her words. 
 
 " Certainly, for I feel convinced if we once 
 hear the facts of the matter explained by 
 his own lips, we shall find that he was not 
 so much at fault. At least wait until you 
 hear what he has to say and then give him 
 your final answer. Even a criminal is not 
 convicted without a trial, and you are ready 
 to pronounce judgment upon the man who 
 loves you without giving him a chance to 
 say a word in his defence. I am afraid you 
 are hard-hearted."
 
 66 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 I was silenced. I saw it was useless to 
 try and make her understand what I felt. 
 She looked upon it from a worldly point 
 of view. In her matter-of-fact way she 
 argued that similar occurrences take place 
 daily in life, that a man is not perfect but 
 liable to the failings of humanity in general. 
 If woman raises her ideal of him too high 
 she must be disillusioned, and as long as 
 he has not committed any extraordinary 
 offence there can be no reason for con- 
 demning him. But my midsummer night's 
 dream had vanished, and vanished for ever. 
 I no longer saw with the eyes of Titania, 
 to whom the most ungainly object appeared 
 beautiful. The bandage had dropped from 
 my eyes, and I did not even once attempt 
 to soothe my wounded heart with the 
 thought that he must be mine whatever he 
 might have done. I was perfectly willing to 
 pardon him as a man, but he could no longer 
 take the place of lover with me. That place 
 must be filled by one inspired by loftier 
 motives. Whatever might be the short- 
 comings of men in general, he whom I was 
 to call husband must be above all that is 
 small and unworthy in a man. This might 
 appear like a fanciful illusion to a maturer
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 67 
 
 mind, but the ideal being unblemished carried 
 all the force of reality in my inexperienced 
 heart. Nor was I satisfied to have my 
 husband's love for one life only, I must 
 feel in my own consciousness that he had 
 been mine in lives of the past and would 
 be mine again in lives to come. That at 
 any time his life should not have been 
 entirely mine, that his affections should ever 
 have belonged to another I could not 
 tolerate the idea. In this respect I expected 
 of man what man expects of woman. As a 
 man wants undivided devotion from the 
 woman he marries, as she is not allowed 
 ever to give a thought to any man but him, 
 so did I want my husband's whole existence 
 to be mine. 
 
 I do not know whether anyone sym- 
 pathises with me, whether I can make 
 anyone understand what I felt. I might 
 pardon him, I might even marry him if 
 need be, but he could never now reach up 
 to my ideal. Time was when I thought 
 he could be enshrined in my soul as all I 
 had dreamed of in man, but I saw now that 
 I had been mistaken. Now that the en- 
 chantment was over, he had become to me 
 a mutilated idol, which could no longer
 
 68 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 enter the sanctuary of my being ; my whole 
 life seemed wrecked. Perhaps there is in 
 the world another who harbours such sen- 
 timent as mine, but I knew of none, hence 
 I remained silent.
 
 CHAPTER VI
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 IT turned out as my sister had foretold. 
 He came and himself spoke of what had 
 happened. 
 
 " You heard what the doctor told me, did 
 you not, Moni ? ' : For the first time he 
 addressed me in the familiar way. Perhaps 
 he felt it would be improper to address me 
 with the respectful pronoun after his offer 
 of marriage yesterday, or perhaps he con- 
 sidered it his lawful right to do so. 
 
 I replied by a nod. 
 
 He continued, " I am afraid you think I 
 have done something very scandalous. 
 I am very sorry, but the truth is there was 
 nothing serious it was only a flirtation, and 
 that is a matter of everyday occurrence in 
 England." 
 
 I felt indignant but suppressed my feeling 
 and replied calmly, 
 
 " But from what I heard the doctor say it 
 seems to have been exactly the reverse." 
 
 " Oh, that meddlesome fellow, he is 
 71
 
 72 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 an out-and-out hypocrite. Anything about 
 other people, and he makes a mountain out 
 of a molehill." 
 
 I could conceal my indignation no longer. 
 
 " If a man is a hypocrite because he cham- 
 pions the cause of a helpless, forsaken girl, 
 then what name is to be applied to one who 
 betrays the girl who trusted him ? Is he 
 to be styled a man of honour ? >: 
 
 I felt my words to be very trenchant, 
 and I regretted them when I saw the effect 
 they had upon him. He kept silent for a 
 while. When he spoke again it was with 
 firmness. 
 
 " I have not betrayed her. On the 
 contrary I should have done so if I had 
 married her. I could never have loved 
 her." 
 
 " Then, why this engagement ? " 
 
 " There was no formal betrothal, but, but 
 there was a mistake. However, the fault 
 was not mine. I had not thought it neces- 
 sary to speak to you on this subject, but 
 since you have heard of it, in part anyway, 
 it is perhaps better I should tell you all." 
 
 Needless to say what he told me of the 
 English girl made her appear as one who 
 had sinned greatly against the existing
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 73 
 
 rules of Society. He spoke in his own de- 
 fence. She had constantly sought him, 
 had invited him repeatedly to her house, 
 and acted like one afflicted if he did not 
 go as often as she wished. If she went 
 anywhere, she asked him to accompany 
 her, and so forth. It would have been un- 
 gracious on his part to refuse her requests. 
 In this way he fell into a trap, but as soon 
 as he saw that she wished to marry him, 
 he became less marked in his attentions 
 towards her. 
 
 This was his side of the story, but it 
 failed to have the intended impression upon 
 me. I only pitied the unfortunate girl 
 the more / nor did it increase my respect for 
 her accuser. 
 
 " But why did you allow her to be de- 
 ceived ? " I observed. " What may have 
 been a mere flirtation to you, was evidently 
 to her the expression of deep-rooted feeling. 
 Your amusement was her sorrow. Such 
 being the case you were in duty bound to 
 marry her." 
 
 " Do you hold that because a man makes 
 a mistake in an unfortunate moment he 
 should on that account ruin his whole life ? 
 If I had married her, I should not only have
 
 74 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 made my own life miserable, but would 
 have dragged others down with me. Do 
 you not understand that this marriage would 
 have been a great blow to my parents and 
 relatives ? I should have been lost to my 
 country for ever, and in the end what would 
 she have gained, for whose sake all this sacri- 
 fice would have been incurred ? Would 
 her life not have been unhappy as well ? 
 Since I did not love her, I could not have 
 made her happy. In the face of all this, do 
 you still hold I should have married her ? J: 
 
 This argument seemed true, but there 
 was one point still unexplained. " Why does 
 she still expect to be married to you ? You 
 should at least have had a final explanation 
 with her, and asked her to release you 
 from your word." 
 
 " I thought I had given sufficient explana- 
 tion, but if there is still any doubt in her 
 mind, the news of my marriage will make 
 her position clear to her." 
 
 How cruel those last words sounded, how 
 extremely repugnant it all seemed to me. 
 She loved him, she still hoped to be married 
 to him, and now she was to realise the situa- 
 tion through the news of his marriage. Oh, 
 what agony, what heart-burning would she
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 75 
 
 not endure ! What claim had I on him ? 
 Had she not loved him first, had he not 
 been bound to her before he had seen me ? 
 Could I have the heart to ruin her life ? 
 These thoughts revolved in my mind and 
 excited my nerves, and my feeling was in 
 my voice when I spoke. 
 
 " I do not know whether you have acted 
 rightly or otherwise. It is not for me to 
 judge you, the great God will do that. But 
 let me assure you I will not place myself 
 as a barrier in the way of the girl who loves 
 you." 
 
 My words seemed to startle him, he stood 
 like one struck dumb, he had evidently not 
 expected this reply. It took him some time 
 to master his agitation. I saw he struggled 
 to suppress his anger as he spoke. 
 
 " You charge me with having practised 
 deception. However that may be, I have 
 certainly not deceived you. But you have 
 deceived me, you have played with me, you 
 never loved me, and yet you did everything 
 to make me think so. If you had ever 
 truly cared for me, you would not now wish 
 to break off with me for so trivial a reason. 
 You would rather pity me in my misery. 
 Oh, my Godj must I live to bear this ? "
 
 76 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 Then we remained silent, both he and I. 
 The minutes wore by, but neither spoke. 
 My sister came to our rescue. She entered 
 the room and greeted Mr. Roy, which 
 greeting having been returned he said, 
 
 " I have to go to the interior this evening 
 in connection with a case. I may have to 
 remain there for more than a week. I hope I 
 shall hear from you." 
 
 He then rose and held out his hand to bid 
 me farewell. Once more he spoke to me, 
 his voice was low and sad, it was almost 
 pitiable to hear him. 
 
 " I have no more to say. My life, my 
 death, are both in your hands. Consider 
 this before you act further." 
 
 With these words he left the room.
 
 CHAPTER VII
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 MY sister's conviction that I would be 
 reconciled after hearing his version of the 
 story had thus proved untrue ; the reverse 
 was the case. The manner in which he 
 spoke in extenuation of his guilt had only 
 increased my disrespect for him. The mere 
 fact that he had tried to explain away the 
 whole incident as a mere flirtation caused 
 feelings of the deepest resentment in my 
 heart, and when he began to say unkind 
 things about the doctor in order to dis- 
 abuse himself, I considered him more 
 unworthy than ever. When in the end he 
 went so far as to assert that I had deceived 
 him, that if I loved him I would gladly 
 overlook so trivial a matter, his utterances 
 had reached their climax, he was then adding 
 insult to injury. Was it then my fault that 
 he was not as good as he made himself out 
 to be ? My resentment now grew into anger. 
 Nevertheless, strong as was my feeling 
 against him, there was still hope, for his 
 final piteous appeal had not failed to leave 
 
 79
 
 8o AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 its impression. A woman may be cruel in 
 a moment when anger controls her, but she 
 cannot resist the pleading of love, that melts 
 her heart when nothing else will. This is 
 the essential difference between woman 
 and man, it is here thac the Creator has 
 marked her as being distinctly different 
 from his stronger creature. His distressed 
 mien, his passionate exhortations, these 
 had spoken to me of a deep love, and the 
 thought of that went to my heart ; I felt 
 the pang of his disappointment as keenly 
 as he felt it himself. Now that he was 
 gone I reflected on the whole painful scene 
 with the deepest emotion ; I began to 
 doubt my own self. The very words that 
 had before excited my anger began now 
 to move me to pity. Was it then true after 
 all ? Had I deceived him ? Had I made him 
 think I loved him when in reality I did not ? 
 Had I taken his future into my hands, 
 meting out to him either happiness or misery 
 as it pleased me best ? 
 
 I now became overpowered by remorse, 
 I felt the deepest pity for him. My mind 
 became filled with gloom and I sat speech- 
 less, motionless, brooding over the things 
 I had heard or said. My sister came and
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 81 
 
 looked at me with anxious gaze, she wanted 
 to question me. Just then the servant 
 announced the doctor's arrival. This diverted 
 me. I felt myself becoming calm, and when 
 he entered the room I felt happy. 
 
 After the usual greeting he apologised 
 for not having been able to come earlier, 
 and then inquired after the state of my 
 health. My sister explained to him that I 
 had slept well during the night, and that 
 she considered me much better. She did 
 not think I needed any more medicine. 
 
 The sun was penetrating through the 
 western window, and shone upon the sofa on 
 which I sat. He closed the window, sat 
 down on a chair beside me and felt my 
 pulse. Then addressing my sister, he said, 
 
 " She is not quite well yet, her pulse is 
 still weak. Do not stop the tonic." 
 
 I did not like the tonic, it tasted bitter, 
 and I did not waste a minute in expressing 
 myself on the subject. I declared pettishly 
 the tonic must be stopped, it did not suit 
 my palate. 
 
 My brother-in-law, who had just entered 
 the room, heard my declaration. 
 
 " Up in arms again ? " he laughed. " With 
 whom are you quarrelling now, with the
 
 82 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 doctor or with the medicine ? " I became 
 embarrassed, but was still fretful. 
 
 " If you will only taste this mixture once, 
 you will understand my feeling," I retorted. 
 
 " If that will remove your petulance, I 
 will gladly empty the whole phial, 1 ' he re- 
 plied, still laughing. " I say, doctor," he 
 continued, " will any one still question the 
 intellectual inferiority of woman in the face 
 of proofs like this ? 5 
 
 " We do not understand you," said my 
 sister. " Please explain yourself." 
 
 " Women will play the coquette with 
 fate itself when they have no one else to 
 play with. They seem to think they can 
 melt its iron, inflexible force with mere 
 appealing glances from pretty eyes while 
 men will boldly undertake to fight fate." 
 
 " But if fate is so inflexible how can you 
 reckon them wise who undertake to fight it ? " 
 
 " Well said. I quite agree with you," 
 exclaimed the doctor. 
 
 " So you are taking their side. Well, I 
 can't stay here any longer. I must go down- 
 stairs, I have a client waiting for me. See 
 you as you go." And my brother-in-law 
 departed. 
 
 The doctor turned to me with the con-
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 83 
 
 soling offer to give me a more palatable 
 tonic if the present one was too bitter. 
 
 It was the expression of true sympathy, 
 it touched my heart, and I know I expressed 
 my feeling in my eyes as I looked at him. 
 
 What a little thing a kind word is, and yet 
 the miracles that it can work. If men 
 would realise what a heaven they might 
 create for themselves by regarding the 
 little things that women cherish let them 
 learn to heed her wishes in all small matters ! 
 A woman can forgive almost anything for a 
 word of sympathy, but withhold that, and 
 there is no telling what he may prepare for 
 himself, from coldness to estrangement, and 
 finally a life of misery ; this is the result, 
 the daily result, of lives in which woman's 
 nature is not understood. 
 
 In a corner of the room was a table with 
 writing material. The doctor wrote out a 
 new prescription there, and handed it to my 
 sister, remarking as he did so, " I suppose 
 there is no further necessity for my coming ? " 
 
 " She seems to be quite well," my sister 
 replied ; " if she has no relapse I think she 
 will be able to get on by herself now." 
 
 I did not like my sister's reply. She 
 might, it seemed to me, as a matter of cour-
 
 84 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 tesy, have asked him to call occasionally. 
 I felt annoyed with her, but tried not to let 
 her notice it. The doctor started to leave the 
 room, but before doing so, brought a small 
 table on which stood a flower vase contain- 
 ing a bouquet of sweet-scented flowers and 
 placed it near the couch on which I rested. 
 
 " The fragrance of flowers is good for the 
 nervous system," he said, and bidding me 
 good-bye, left the room. 
 
 How strange it was these flowers brought 
 back the memory of my childhood, and once 
 more I saw that school-room and its sunny 
 hours which cast ever anew a halo over the 
 memory of early days. I remembered how 
 fond Chotu had been of the flowers I had 
 brought him, how carefully he had arranged 
 them in a broken drinking glass, and placed 
 them on a table near his seat ; how I used 
 to bend over from my seat to inhale their 
 fragrance and in my childish way exclaim, 
 " How very sweet these flowers are. How 
 is it that the flowers at home are not half so 
 sweet ? " 
 
 How Chotu used to smile at me then and 
 look so proud and happy. To-day it seemed 
 as if it were Chotu who placed these flowers 
 beside me. I forgot myself in the thought
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 85 
 
 of the past, and was about to ask the ques- 
 tion, " Are you Chotu ? " but the illusion 
 vanished as quickly as it came, and ere I 
 could speak he had crossed the room. A 
 new realisation took hold of me. Was I 
 going to love this man ? I compared the 
 weird fascination that Mr. Roy's song had 
 had upon me with the feeling that now 
 entered my heart, but I dared not yield. 
 How could I be so capricious, so base indeed, 
 as to forsake the man whom only a few days 
 ago I had loved ? Could I forget him who 
 had vowed to me fidelity unto death for one 
 whom I had never seen before, one who had 
 come into my life only yesterday ? Was it 
 then true after all that I had never loved 
 him, that I was deceiving him ? If I had 
 truly cared for him this incident in his life 
 would have filled me with sorrow, with 
 wounded pride, perhaps, but certainly never 
 with anger, much less with the thought of 
 forsaking him. 
 
 Yes, I had been wrong. I now thought 
 I saw the truth clearly. I saw my fault, and 
 my heart was filled with penitence. If 
 I had been annoyed a while ago because my 
 sister did not invite the doctor to come to the 
 house again, I now was pleased because she
 
 86 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 had not done so. The man who had told 
 me he loved me was to be my husband, and 
 none other. I had wronged him greatly, 
 but I would not deceive him. I would ex- 
 plain to him all that was in my heart, and 
 if he wanted to marry me still I would be 
 his. There would of course be no question 
 on that point. He loved me with unswerving 
 devotion ; he had himself said so. However 
 unworthy I might be, he was too great, too 
 noble to change ; he would, indeed, save me 
 from the great error I had been about to 
 commit. 
 
 Therefore, when my sister enquired about 
 the conversation we had had together, I 
 replied that I was firm in my determination 
 to marry him. 
 
 " I have understood," I continued, " that 
 he has done no wrong in not marrying her." 
 
 " Do you also understand how deeply he 
 loves you ? J! 
 
 " Yes, I understand it all now." 
 
 " Then you will have no further objec- 
 tions ? " 
 
 " None." 
 
 My sister was greatly pleased with my 
 reply and consoled herself with the thought 
 that he would be back again in a week.
 
 CHAPTER VIII
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 I RECEIVED a letter in due time, a letter 
 that breathed love and humility. It melted 
 my heart and made me still more repentant. 
 Needless to say the letter was written in 
 English. That the love letters of a Bengali 
 youth, whose whole life is one great imita- 
 tion, should be written in his native 
 tongue, this preposterous idea would not 
 occur to any one. 
 
 Of course, I began to write the reply in 
 English. I was reputed to be well grounded 
 in that language. I had received my educa- 
 tion at one of the best English schools in 
 Calcutta. My correspondence was con- 
 ducted almost entirely in English ; the letter 
 to my father and to my aunt were the only 
 ones written in Bengali. I seldom even 
 spoke in my mother tongue with my girl 
 friends, and as to the English poems and 
 novels that I had read, their number was 
 legion. To tell the truth I was a little vain 
 of the command I had acquired over the 
 
 89
 
 90 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 English language, yet, however hard I might 
 try, I could not make this letter a success. 
 It was the first time in my life that I had 
 attempted a letter of the kind. I positively 
 found myself perspiring under the strain of 
 this enormous task, and became terribly 
 confused in the selection of synonyms and 
 floundered about among adjectives and pre- 
 positions until I was half mad. I could not 
 count the letters I wrote and destroyed 
 immediately after. If the sentiment was 
 fairly well expressed the language was not 
 to my liking, and vice-versa, when the lan- 
 guage was well chosen, the sentiment was 
 not expressed as it should have been. Once 
 or twice it really seemed as if language and 
 sentiment agreed, but then it occurred to 
 me that the thing read something like a 
 novel, and I discarded it again. I became 
 so morbid that a simple " in " or " to " 
 upset me, and soon the poor letter lay again 
 in shreds on the floor. Now could any one 
 under the sun finish a letter at this rate ? 
 For the first time in my life I perceived the 
 dignity and beauty of my mother tongue. 
 
 I had studied Bengali until my eleventh 
 or twelfth year. Then I went to a girls' 
 school, conducted by Catholic sisters who
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 91 
 
 followed the Western system of education. 
 So my knowledge of my native tongue had 
 to a great extent been acquired by conversa- 
 tion. I had indeed read some poems and 
 novels in Bengali, but of the higher classics 
 written in this beautiful language I knew 
 nothing. Nevertheless if I had had the 
 good sense to write this letter in Bengali I 
 should not have had to tax my brail so 
 much about grammar a ad syntax. Strange 
 as it may seem, we Bengalis do not mind an 
 incorrect expression in our own language, 
 but the slightest mistake in English causes 
 us the greatest embarrassment. There is 
 a saying that God is remembered only 
 through difficulties. I realised this truth 
 when I wrote that English letter. If we 
 would bestow half the care on our own lan- 
 guage that we do on an alien tongue we 
 might carry its literary merit to the highest 
 perfection. 
 
 Perhaps it was not the language alone 
 that was at fault. There was that in my 
 mental condition that was not conducive 
 to calmness ; when we have really nothing 
 to say we can speak volumes, but when it 
 comes to a matter in which our heart is 
 involved, particularly when the affair is a
 
 92 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 complicated one, it is often difficult to find 
 words to express our feelings. I wonder to 
 this day when I think over the strange fate 
 of this oft written and as often destroyed 
 letter, whether it would have reached its 
 destination if it had been written in Bengali 
 instead of English. Who knows ? 
 
 The week that marked his absence was 
 approaching its end, the day was near when 
 he would return and not a solitary letter 
 had I written, although I had wasted a 
 quire of paper in the attempt. I had at last 
 abandoned my forlorn hope, consoling myself 
 with the thought that I should soon see him 
 again and that after all letters were a mere 
 superfluity. It would be much better for 
 me to tell him what I felt, I could never 
 express all my feelings on paper. He would, 
 of course, gladly forgive me when he heard 
 of the tragic fate of the many letters I had 
 written through the week, and so I rested 
 at ease. 
 
 The week of his absence lengthened into 
 a fortnight, and there was no news of his 
 return. 
 
 But there was gossip, my sister heard of 
 that at a dinner-party one evening. I saw 
 her the next morning looking worried, and
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 93 
 
 she asked me rather abruptly whether I 
 had received any letter from him. I feared 
 she would reprove me if she found I had not 
 written. I therefore tried to evade her 
 question. 
 
 " Did you have any music last evening ? " 
 
 " No," she replied, " there was no good 
 singer, Kusum and her people are still at 
 Mymensing. Chanchal was there, she sang, 
 but not well. I too made an attempt, but 
 I was so worried I could not sing either." 
 
 " Why should you be worried at a dinner- 
 party ? " 
 
 " Do you know what the gossip is ? 
 People say that the engagement between 
 you and Romanath has fallen through, and 
 that he is to be married to Kusum. He 
 is said to be stopping with them at Mymen- 
 sing." 
 
 " Don't be depressed over a mere report," 
 I said. " People have nothing better to 
 do and so they gossip. Valmiki had finished 
 the Ramayana before ever Ram was born. 
 People have not all the genius of a Valmiki 
 to write of great deeds, so they prattle about 
 other people's affairs and tell stories which 
 are seldom true." 
 
 " The report does not seem to be mere
 
 94 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 gossip. I heard it from Chanchal's mother. 
 She told me Kusum is to receive fifty 
 thousand rupees as a dowry." 
 
 Chanchal's mother was Kusum's aunt, 
 and the two sisters-in-law were not on 
 friendly terms. They could not see each 
 other's better qualities, and each found a 
 considerable amount of satisfaction in finding 
 fault with the other. This fact being known 
 to me, I doubted the story. 
 
 " If she said it, you may rest assured 
 there is not much truth in it." 
 
 " But I hear Romanath returned to town 
 the day before yesterday. Why then has 
 he not yet come to the house ? If all were 
 well, why should he act as he does ? >: 
 
 I had even then full faith in him ; even 
 then his last piteous appeal rang in my 
 ears ; I recalled the tender touch of his hand 
 and the affectionate tone of his letter. My 
 faith was not to be shaken by gossip or a 
 day's delay on his part to come and see 
 me. I spoke to my sister with gentle 
 reproach. 
 
 " Didi, I am surprised at you. If he 
 could not come yesterday he may come 
 to-day. Why do you worry so much ? 
 Only a few days ago you had such deep faith
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 95 
 
 in him, and now you have lost it all through 
 mere gossip. If his love is genuine this 
 report cannot be true, and if it is not, then 
 we have been saved from a dishonest man. 
 I really do not see why we should grieve." 
 My sister said no more. But I received 
 that moment as much comfort from my 
 faith in his love as the devotee does from 
 his faith in love Divine. It is an invaluable 
 treasure, this faith. It awakens the heart 
 to a greater bliss. It is because of the 
 absence of faith that love is not always 
 lasting, and often leaves the heart dis- 
 consolate.
 
 CHAPTER IX
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 MY sister felt the effect of having retired 
 late on the previous night, she therefore lay 
 down to rest during the day. I was left 
 alone and seated myself on an easy chair 
 by the window, with a novel in my hand, 
 but I could not fix my mind on my book ; 
 one's taste is subject to change. Only a 
 year ago I was so fond of books of this kind 
 that I stole time even from my studies for 
 an occasional hour of novel reading. It had 
 seemed to me then that I could spend my 
 life happily with nothing else to do but 
 read stones. 
 
 But now my book lay open before me, 
 and I glanced through it mechanically, 
 grasping of course not a word of it. I was, 
 in fact, not reading at all. 1 was lonely at 
 heart, yearning for something not within 
 my reach, but what that something was I 
 could not myself understand, and that made 
 me the more lonely. I looked towards the 
 
 99
 
 loo AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 sky and my eyes lost themselves in its 
 measureless expanse. From it I turned again 
 to my book. From afar the clock struck 
 the hour. The sky attracted me again. 
 Soft clouds appeared, and made me think of 
 the sea, the restless, never quiet sea, that I 
 had seen only once. I recalled a few lines 
 I had once read somewhere, " There are 
 places and times when the aspect of the sea 
 is dangerous, fatal as is the gaze of woman." 
 I remembered the simile impressed me as 
 being most striking and beautiful. I had 
 half forgotten it, but the look of the sky 
 now revived its memory. I knew not the 
 book in which I had read it, but the passage 
 lived. If the sea is dangerous, then it must 
 be an angry look that compares with it, 
 but is a woman's look of anger ever awe- 
 inspiring to man ? Not being a man, I 
 could not judge that, but I had to smile at 
 the pusillanimity of man. I could not 
 imagine such an angry look, such exaspera- 
 tion in a man as would discompose me. I 
 am usually considered mild-natured, the 
 sight of the least suffering in others moves 
 me instantly, and for one I love I could 
 sacrifice all my desires ; but could another's 
 anger tame me ?
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 101 
 
 If on the day of our last meeting he had 
 lost his temper, had threatened me, I should 
 certainly not have felt any pity for him, 
 nor would I have been so truly desirous of 
 making amends. Love is far stronger in 
 its workings than any other emotion. To 
 me it could never be the angry look that 
 would prove fatal, but the appealing glance 
 that pleads for pity this would find response 
 in me, and this only. His tender farewell 
 look came back into my mind. No, the 
 sea is dangerous also in her sweeter moods. 
 As the unsuspecting man who sleeps on the 
 shore thinking himself safe from the distant 
 wave is carried away softly, stealthily by 
 the tide, so is the heart overpowered by 
 the gentle melting glance ; the man who 
 sinks slowly into the embracing wave does 
 not even wish to escape, and there lies the 
 danger. 
 
 I heard footsteps ; this startled me. I 
 turned round and looking up saw Romanath 
 standing before me. He was not smiling ; 
 serious, sad and afflicted, he offered his hand 
 to me in silence, and sat down on a chair 
 beside me. His coldness chilled me. He 
 must feel hurt because he had received no 
 letter from me, but how could I make an
 
 102 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 explanation to him while he was in this 
 mood ? I tried to speak but could not, 
 
 He broke the silence at last. " I hope you 
 received my letter, Miss Mazumdar ? " I 
 noticed the change in the mode of address. 
 His manner was distant, his language formal, 
 cold and passionless. It almost froze the 
 blood in my veins. The reply I gave was 
 grave, and spoken in an unsteady voice. 
 
 " Yes, I received it. I did not reply 
 because you were to return so soon." 
 
 " May I expect a reply now ? " 
 
 I was prepared to speak to him. I had 
 so long rehearsed what I was going to say. 
 I knew it all by heart, but when I began to 
 speak, I found how difficult it was to do so. 
 I could remember neither the beginning nor 
 the end of my prepared speech. It seemed 
 as if the whole thing crowded into my 
 brain at once and I became confused. 
 I faltered a few indistinct words in reply. 
 " I what am I to say ? the fault was " 
 
 " The same mood still the same reply, 
 ' The fault was mine,' you say." I had not 
 meant it that way. I had meant to say 
 the fault was not his but mine. He, 
 however, gave me no chance to say more, 
 but simply replied to my last words.
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 103 
 
 " Let the fault be mine, then ; but can you 
 marry me still knowing the fault to be mine ? 
 Do not think I speak from a selfish motive, 
 think of what you will suffer if this engage- 
 ment is broken. I have asked you to marry 
 me, and as a man of honour I mean to 
 keep my word. Do not be swayed by any 
 considerations for me. Consider only your- 
 self while you decide what course to follow." 
 
 The counsel sounded unselfish enough, but 
 my whole nature revolted when I heard it. 
 Had I condoned his shortcomings only to 
 hear this ? His language was careful and 
 guarded, there was not a trace of sentiment 
 in his speech. Was the report about him 
 true after all ? Had he been bought over 
 by gold ? My pride asserted itself, and when 
 I spoke it was in a firm and clear voice. 
 
 " I am not calculating how much I may 
 gain by this transaction. You need not 
 trouble yourself on my account. I do not 
 want to marry for convenience. Since your 
 happiness no longer depends upon this 
 marriage, I beg to be absolved from any 
 further responsibility." 
 
 His voice was unsteady as he replied : 
 "Then let it be so."
 
 CHAPTER X
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 IT was, of course, necessary for me to make 
 an explanation to my sister, and this I did. 
 I explained the situation to her just as it 
 was, but if I had expected sympathy, I 
 was mistaken. My sister was displeased, 
 very displeased ; she showed it in her voice 
 when she spoke. 
 
 " I can well understand that there is 
 gossip ; no wonder he is reported to be 
 engaged to some one else. You have brought 
 it upon yourself, you alone. And all this 
 has gone on secretly while I was thinking 
 everything was made up between you. You 
 may have had some abstract ideas of recon- 
 ciliation, but how was the poor man to 
 guess that ? You told him plainly you 
 would not marry him, and when he laid his 
 case before you as one of life and death, 
 you remained obstinately silent. When he 
 wrote to you tenderly pleading, it did not 
 suit you to send him a line in reply. What 
 is one to think of such conduct ? Do you 
 107
 
 108 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 take him to be a man without any pride or 
 self-respect ? It is a wonder to me that he 
 ever came near the house again. The mere 
 fact that he did call is in my estimation 
 enough proof of his honour and goodness." 
 
 " That may be true, but the manner in 
 which he solicited my final decision plainly 
 proved that he had no love for me." 
 
 " I do not see that you reason correctly. 
 However deep a man's love may be, if he 
 sees it is not reciprocated, he will certainly 
 act accordingly. A man's self-respect does 
 not permit him to speak in familiar terms 
 to his fiancee when he sees she no longer 
 desires him." 
 
 " But when he calmly informed me to 
 look upon the matter simply in connection 
 with the advantage or disadvantage I might 
 receive from it and put the question of 
 sentiment aside entirely, what would you 
 have had me say ? Was I to cast all better 
 feelings to the winds and complacently 
 reply : ' It does not matter in the least 
 whether you love me or not, I will marry 
 you because this marriage will be my gain' ? " 
 
 " But you had wronged him, you had hurt 
 his feelings. If you had acknowledged your 
 mistake in order to remove his uncertainty,
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 109 
 
 I do not really see how your self-respect 
 would have been hurt. If, as you think, 
 he adopted that indifferent way of speaking 
 in order to extricate himself, even then you 
 should have given him time to speak more 
 plainly. As the matter stands he has been 
 obliged to take the stand he has on account 
 of your coldness. So far as I can see you 
 alone are to blame." 
 
 I could not make my sister understand my 
 action. According to her I had wantonly 
 thrown away my only chance of happiness 
 in life. The one object of a maiden's life 
 is matrimony ; she must be given to a desir- 
 able bridegroom, that is the goal of her 
 existence. If she finds a worthy man who 
 professes to love and is willing to marry her, 
 she must consider that her future is assured, 
 she has all that can make life dear. A 
 husband's love truly is sufficient to counter- 
 balance all the miseries that life can bring, 
 but when that love is wanting what will 
 constitute a woman's life ? 
 
 My sister took the accepted view of the 
 matter. Here was a desirable man who had 
 offered to marry me, claimed to love me, 
 would have made me a good husband ; he 
 was handsome and of good social standing ;
 
 i io AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 all this was thrown aside by a foolish 
 imaginary sentiment on the part of a girl 
 who was incapable of judging for herself. 
 She would not allow me to explain to her 
 that he had cut me short when I would have 
 come to an understanding with him. The 
 cold, matter-of-fact way in which my sister 
 reproached me touched me to the quick, it 
 made my heart ache. I tried to forgive her 
 on the ground that it was after all only her 
 devotion and solicitude for me that made 
 her turn so severely upon me. Affection 
 expressed in this way has seldom a soothing 
 effect. It took away from me even the 
 power to reply, my voice became choked 
 with tears, and I could say no more. 
 
 Scarcely had the altercation ceased, than 
 my brother-in-law appeared with an open 
 letter in his hand. There was both surprise 
 and indignation in his face, and dropping 
 the letter into my sister's lap he asked her 
 to read it. 
 
 " What does this mean ? " he enquired. 
 
 My sister read the note and then handed 
 it to me. I found it was as I had expected. 
 Here was a carefully worded letter containing 
 a formal proposal to break off the engage- 
 ment and explaining that it was by my
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG in 
 
 desire matters had come to this. The 
 writer asked to be exonerated from all 
 blame and placed himself in as favourable 
 a light as possible. 
 
 My brother-in-law took the matter as 
 men usually do, he expressed his contempt 
 for the man in strong language. 
 
 " He has broken this engagement to 
 marry Miss Mullick," he said. " Upon my 
 honour I will call him to account for this." 
 
 But my sister calmed him. " What he 
 says is not untrue," she explained. " It is 
 due to Moni that the engagement has been 
 broken." 
 
 " What ! this engagement has been broken 
 by Moni ? Is it still on account of that 
 affair in England ? You told me they had 
 come to an understanding on that point. 
 What has taken possession of her ? Has 
 she gone mad ? ' : 
 
 " I thought myself the difference had 
 been settled, but I now find that such was 
 not the case." 
 
 " O frailty, thy name is woman. Why 
 so much ado about nothing ? This is the 
 broadmindedness produced by your educa- 
 tion, the fruit of liberty ! What is to be 
 done now ? The thing will drive me mad."
 
 ii2 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 I tried hard to bear up in silence under 
 all that was said against me. That all this 
 had happened through my fault was true 
 enough, but would my brother-in-law as a 
 man consider this fault of mine unpardonable 
 if he understood the circumstances of the 
 case ? Would not the nobler sentiment 
 appeal to him ? I could not possibly lay 
 the matter in detail before him as I had 
 done before my sister, nevertheless I picked 
 up courage and spoke, although my voice 
 was trembling as I did so. 
 
 " What alternative had I ? What answer 
 could I give him when he told me to decide 
 whether I would marry him or not simply 
 out of consideration for the damage I might 
 cause myself if I rejected his suit, and 
 without any thought of sentiment ? If he 
 had spoken in a milder tone, if he had 
 allowed any feeling in the matter, I should 
 not have rejected him." 
 
 My brother-in-law frowned, and replied, 
 " The whole thing appears to me absurd. 
 I am at a loss to understand it. The 
 man really told you to consider whether 
 you might not cause yourself some in- 
 jury before deciding what course to 
 take ? "
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 113 
 
 My sister evidently thought still further 
 explanation was necessary. 
 
 " But you should hear the true circum- 
 stances of the case before you judge," she 
 said. " He pleaded for forgiveness from 
 her in a very contrite manner just before 
 going away, but he did not elicit from her one 
 word of hope. He wrote to her during his 
 absence entreating her to take a reasonable 
 view of the matter, but she would not reply. 
 What could the man do after that ? Is there 
 not a limit to human patience ? I think it 
 would be better if you had a conversation 
 with him, asking him what his intentions 
 really are. If this is all due to mere mis- 
 understanding between them, it should be 
 put right." 
 
 The situation became most painful to me, 
 tears filled my eyes as I pleaded with my 
 sister. 
 
 " Sister, I beseech you, don't let there 
 be any more said on the subject. Is this a 
 commercial affair that we should barter 
 over it ? If he loves me, he will himself 
 broach the subject to me again. Do tell your 
 husband not to speak further to him." 
 
 My brother-in-law was walking up and 
 down the room, he was in a very perturbed
 
 ii4 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 state of mind. Before my sister could reply 
 to my appeal he spoke. 
 
 " I don't know what is the right thing to 
 do. I am disgusted with the whole affair. 
 Let us wait and see whether he says any 
 more himself. On the other hand I will 
 collect all the information I can get regarding 
 him. I met the doctor yesterday, and asked 
 him to come and play tennis to-morrow. 
 We will question him about the engagement 
 in England, and can then form a correct 
 estimate of the man. In the meantime, 
 however, it will be very disagreeable for me 
 to enter the Bar-Library to-morrow." 
 
 " What grieves me most is the thought 
 of father," was my sister's anxious remark. 
 
 Yes, poor father, I, too, was thinking of 
 him, and there lay the most painful part of 
 the whole affair.
 
 CHAPTER XI
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 ANXIETY, unhappiness, gloom on every side, 
 my sister was grave and silent ; my brother- 
 in-law was fretful and vented his ire on the 
 poor servants, who were terrified like hunted 
 hares. It seemed as if even the trees and 
 the flowers, the very doors and windows 
 were bereft of their natural appearance. The 
 whole atmosphere was surcharged with a 
 frigid cheerlessness, and I was the cause of it 
 all. The thought of it hung over me like 
 a leaden weight. And on this day of all 
 days my father's sister came to visit us, 
 accompanied by her daughter, Promada. 
 We put on as cheerful faces as we could, but 
 try as hard as ever we might we could 
 not wholly conceal the gloom. They evi- 
 dently noticed it, and Promada bothered me 
 with question after question. " What is the 
 matter ? What has happened ? Why are 
 you all so sad ? Just because he has gone 
 away for a few days ? He will come back 
 117
 
 ii8 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 soon and then there will be a wedding. 
 Can't you live without him for a day ? " 
 
 Times are not what once they were, the 
 customs of our people are undergoing a 
 marked change. Time was when each sor- 
 row was carried to friends or relatives of 
 one's own age and solace found by opening 
 the heart to its very depths, but this is 
 becoming a thing of the past. The young 
 woman of to-day must learn to bear her 
 sorrow alone, especially when an affair of 
 the heart is involved. I therefore concealed 
 my feeling before Promada and laughed her 
 anxiety down. 
 
 The day wore on, and the tennis players 
 came. A party of ten of us assembled in 
 the garden. Although there was only one 
 court, no inconvenience was felt, because the 
 number of the players was not a large one. 
 My aunt did not play, and I excused myself 
 on the ground that I was not well. The 
 doctor was there, and when not playing 
 came and sat by me, speaking to me in his 
 usual gentle way. 
 
 " You still appear weak," he said. " Your 
 sister tells me you pay no attention to your 
 health, you forget your meals when inter- 
 ested in your books."
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 119 
 
 " No," I assured him, " I have almost 
 given up my studies." 
 
 Promada was by my side, and she took 
 the opportunity to observe 
 
 " I do not know whether she has left off 
 her studies, but I can testify to it that she 
 has left off her meals. Doctor, kindly give 
 her a tonic." 
 
 " Gladly I will prescribe one this very day, 
 but will she take it ? " 
 
 While I was engaged in conversation, my 
 eyes were on the play. When he asked this 
 last question, however, I turned my head 
 and smiled. He looked at me so gently, 
 so tenderly, my whole being responded to 
 the glance and the heaviness of my heart 
 melted away in a happy sigh. The question 
 involuntarily came to my lips : 
 
 " Have you a herb that will remove this 
 weight upon my heart ? " but it remained 
 unspoken ; I only suppressed the tears that 
 mounted to my eyes and drooped my 
 lashes. I heard my brother-in-law calling 
 out : 
 
 " I say, doctor, come on, you are wanted 
 to make up a new set." 
 
 He did not heed, but addressing me 
 questioned :
 
 120 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 " Has the tonic I gave you done you any 
 good ? How many days " 
 
 " I say, come on," shouted my brother- 
 in-law. 
 
 Chanchal came and said, 
 
 " Are you not coming ? We are all wait- 
 ing for you." 
 
 He started like one taken by surprise, 
 hesitated a moment, and then replied, 
 " Am I really making you all wait ? It is 
 too bad of me." 
 
 He joined the players. Promada re- 
 marked, " The doctor is a good man, is he 
 not ? " 
 
 I did not reply. I was in that happy, 
 melancholy, dreamy state that all convales- 
 cents know, when body and mind alike have 
 been wearied by illness and are once more 
 being invigorated by returning health and 
 cheered by the tender care of those who love 
 them.
 
 CHAPTER XII
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MY brother-in-law invited the doctor to 
 remain to dinner, and when my sister and I 
 entered the drawing-room after finishing 
 our household duties, we saw the doctor 
 seated alone in a chair before a table on 
 which lay a book I had been reading. When 
 he saw us enter he rose, but my sister urged 
 him to be seated again. 
 
 " What were you reading so attentively ? }: 
 she asked. " Middlemarch ? I hope we are 
 not disturbing you." 
 
 The doctor resumed his seat after seeing 
 us seated. He smiled, and bending slightly 
 forward looked steadily at us. He was a 
 handsome man, his features were of a fine 
 and intellectual type. His complexion was 
 delicate, slightly olive-coloured, and a soft 
 glossy beard covered his chin and cheeks. 
 A pair of gold-rimmed eye-glasses fastened 
 by a gold chain enhanced his scholarly 
 appearance. 
 
 " Pardon me," he replied gently, " when- 
 123
 
 124 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 ever I find one of George Eliot's novels, I 
 cannot help going through it, it is a great 
 weakness of mine. I have read this very 
 book several times, and still I thought I was 
 reading a new book, I fancied myself dis- 
 covering new truths. You have read it, no 
 doubt ? " 
 
 " I read it years ago," replied my sister. 
 " It impressed me as being a good book, but 
 there are too many long conversations in it. 
 They oppressed my mind." 
 
 " That is true," replied the doctor. " They 
 may be somewhat tedious, but the ideal of 
 the author is grasped by them. Whenever 
 I read George Eliot, I do not like to omit a 
 single line. Whatever chapter, whatever 
 page I may read, I feel my heart touched 
 by a living sympathy. I am then aware 
 of myself only as a spark in an ocean of 
 consciousness, and am happy in drown- 
 ing my individuality in the great sea of 
 
 existence." 
 
 " I cannot quite accept your sentiment," 
 replied my sister, " the heroine in Middle- 
 march married twice. Surely this is not a 
 high ideal of self-sacrifice." 
 
 A gentle smile played round his lips, and 
 passed away quickly. He answered softly,
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 125 
 
 " You forget, perhaps, that the moralist 
 and the novelist are not the same person. 
 The latter does indeed convey some moral 
 lessons, but his main object is to portray 
 life as he finds it, aiming ever at the ideal for 
 which life should stand. It is for him to 
 place before the public the different phases 
 of human nature, the differences of character 
 formed by circumstances, the influences of 
 fate or the rules and laws of Society, all 
 of which are again controlled by the laws 
 of the Universe. George Eliot, who under- 
 stands the mission of an author, does not 
 want to change human nature, does not want 
 to create either gods or demons. She 
 only expresses life as she finds it, and 
 awakens in her reader love and sympathy. 
 Dorothea lives in the ideal, her hopes and 
 aspirations are Utopian, and yet what blun- 
 ders do not such people often commit 
 in this world of ours. This fact the 
 writer has made plain in her character. Is 
 there not a deep pathos in this failure of 
 a life ? " 
 
 " We pity her, but at the same time we 
 must lose patience with her, because she 
 loved such an unworthy man in the end." 
 
 " Some say," I remarked, " that Dorothea
 
 126 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 and Maggie are but portraits of the author's 
 own character." 
 
 " Yes," replied the doctor, " there is no 
 doubt about it. As she was disappointed 
 in her ideals and crossed in her highest 
 hopes and aspirations " 
 
 He could not finish as my brother-in-law 
 entered. 
 
 " Why are you so late ? " enquired my 
 sister. 
 
 " I could not dismiss my client, however 
 hard I tried. What is the discussion about. 
 George Eliot ? Oh, she is a great woman, 
 we must admit that, I am sorry to 
 say." 
 
 " That is a very reluctant admission. Do 
 you not as a man glory in such a genius 
 in woman ? She had a truly grand intellect 
 combined with the sympathetic heart and 
 subtle instinct of a true woman. Think of 
 the masterly way in which she shows that 
 every act of man, small or great, springs 
 from a deeper motive, a finer sense of the 
 inner nature. Has any writer of the stronger 
 sex been able to equal her in that ? " 
 
 " I disagree with you," said my brother- 
 in-law. " Do you mean to say she is as 
 great as Shakespeare, for instance f "
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 127 
 
 " Of course," was the doctor's warm reply. 
 " Why not ? I have not the slightest hesi- 
 tation in pronouncing her as great in her 
 sphere as Shakespeare was in his." 
 
 This seemed to be too bold an assertion 
 for my brother-in-law. He was half angry 
 as he replied, " What a monstrous assertion ; 
 it sounds almost like blasphemy. I never 
 heard such a ridiculous comparison. She is 
 no more a Shakespeare than you are, my 
 dear fellow, however cleverly she may have 
 written her novels." 
 
 " No, she is not a Shakespeare, nor did 
 I mean to indicate that she was. Perhaps 
 I did not express myself clearly. What I 
 meant to say was that George Eliot is as 
 great in her own line as any author in Eng- 
 land, dead or alive." 
 
 " That comes to about the same thing. 
 However, prove it to me that she has as great 
 a creative genius as Shakespeare." 
 
 " The burden of the proof lies with you, 
 my friend." 
 
 To our great relief we heard the dinner 
 bell ring, for my sister and I had become 
 anxious about the outcome of this heated 
 discussion. She therefore remarked smil- 
 ingly,
 
 128 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 " We might perhaps adjourn the contro- 
 versy. We are being called to dinner." 
 
 The men followed our example in rising, 
 but they did not give up their controversy, 
 it clung to them like an evil spirit. 
 
 " You must back up your assertion by 
 good reason, my dear fellow, or admit that 
 George Eliot was not a Shakespeare," 
 continued my brother-in-law. 
 
 " That I will gladly admit," laughed the 
 doctor. " She was a woman, and although 
 she called herself by a man's name, it did 
 not necessarily follow that this made a man 
 of her, whether it be a Shakespeare or any 
 other." 
 
 My brother-in-law joined in the laugh 
 and said, " The premises being granted 
 the conclusion must follow as night follows 
 day. Since, as you admit, she was not a 
 Shakespeare her genius could not be on a 
 par with his either. Now let us shake 
 hands in the name of Shakespeare, the cause 
 of our heated discussion, which seems, how- 
 ever, to have ended satisfactorily all round. 
 Long live Shakespeare, the great man." 
 
 The doctor shook my brother-in-law's 
 proffered hand and replied, " And long 
 live George Eliot, the great woman."
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 129 
 
 " All right," was my brother-in-law's 
 cheerful answer, " I have no further objec- 
 tions to make. Long live Shakespeare, 
 long live George Eliot." 
 
 And they became hilarious and both 
 shouted " Hurrah ! " 
 
 "Are there no cheers for our own writers ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " You are right," replied my sister, " why 
 should we forget them ? Honour to Bankim 
 Chandra first of all ! " 
 
 " Honour to every lady," put in my 
 brother-in-law. " Honour to every man, 
 three cheers for India." 
 
 And so the heated discussion ended 
 happily, to every one's relief. My sister and 
 I laughed, but our laughter was drowned 
 in the chorus of their cheers.
 
 CHAPTER XIII
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE controversy happily ended there. At 
 table the conversation turned on lighter 
 subjects : England and its icy winter, its 
 skating and its snowballing. 
 
 " Don't you pity us ? " said my sister, 
 addressing the doctor. " We have never 
 been out of this land, never seen snow or ice 
 excepting once at Naini Tal." 
 
 " But the ice we saw there," I replied, 
 " was not the same as you describe. It 
 was a sort of a mound of ice, a mass of 
 frozen snow collected in a gorge, where 
 it remained unthawed even in summer. 
 It was very beautiful, however. At one 
 place at the base the ice had melted in such 
 a way as to form a bridge, and the front 
 having melted entirely, the whole had the 
 appearance of a house, the melted part 
 forming the entrance." 
 
 " It was a beautiful quiet place, ' remarked 
 my sister. " We reached it by using the 
 sound of the cascade as our guide." 
 133
 
 134 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 I recalled the scene to which my 
 sister referred, and with my mind's eye 
 beheld it once more in all its exquisite 
 detail. 
 
 " Beautiful indeed," I exclaimed. " Na- 
 ture is charming in that place. The 
 abundant and varying vegetation, the hills, 
 the springs, the streams and the ice all 
 these seem to have conspired to seek this 
 lovely spot to avoid the rude gaze of man, 
 and jealously diffuse their charms before 
 Mother Nature alone. I thought fairyland 
 lay stretched out before me when that 
 gleaming white ice palace, those cosy foliage 
 arbours and hills and valleys suddenly 
 appeared before my view." 
 
 My sister took the occasion to compliment 
 me. 
 
 " Moni describes well. I could not have 
 made it half so interesting." 
 
 I blushed over this open compliment but 
 said nothing. 
 
 My brother-in-law then turned to my 
 sister and said, 
 
 " You are like myself, you have almost 
 forgotten what you saw. Could you give 
 any description ? " 
 
 " Why should I forget ? " she retorted,
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 135 
 
 " I haven't clients to bother me day and 
 night." 
 
 " Well then, tell us how the ice looked." 
 
 " Oh, no doubt, I could do that, but am 
 I here to be examined ? " 
 
 " Very well, let me do it for you. Beauti- 
 fully, faultlessly white, the sublimest, the 
 beautifullest, the grandest." 
 
 My sister checked him. 
 
 " Now really, don't tease me any more," 
 she said. 
 
 The doctor turned towards my brother- 
 in-law. 
 
 " I see you are not satisfied with twenty- 
 four hours a day, you want an extra half- 
 hour or two. You monopolise the whole 
 conversation." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," was the meek 
 reply. " I will be as quiet as a mouse." 
 
 " That is good," said his wife. " Now 
 you keep quiet and we will talk. The ice, 
 well, it did not look like the ice we use in 
 our drinking water. On the outer wall 
 of the icehouse of which we are speaking 
 it looked like frozen salt, and the inner wall 
 was smooth and soft like wax, but it was 
 somewhat blackish, having come 1 into con- 
 tact with the earth."
 
 136 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 " Yes, and imagine," retorted my brother- 
 in-law, quite forgetting his vow of silence, 
 " the fancy took hold of these two to 
 break some ice off the walls and carry it 
 home." 
 
 " Well, you need not complain," was his 
 wife's quick reply. " You did not help 
 us in securing any, nor did we secure any 
 for ourselves in the end all we succeeded 
 in getting were a few particles like dry salt." 
 
 " Had I been there," the doctor assured 
 her, " I would not have left your desire 
 unfulfilled. I would gladly have broken 
 off a whole basketful of ice and carried it 
 home for you." 
 
 " Now, my husband, learn from this 
 gentleman how to please a lady." 
 
 " Ye gods, have I that still to learn ? 
 Have you forgotten how I used to make 
 my fingers bleed plucking roses for you ? 
 That was before we were married, if you 
 remember rightly." 
 
 She evidently did remember, for she 
 blushed charmingly and faltered shyly, 
 
 " Well, well." Then turning to the doctor 
 she continued, " Please do go on with your 
 story. Really a river changed into a glazed 
 mirror with beautiful creatures moving
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 137 
 
 about upon it must be a fairy scene. I am 
 afraid you became quite bewitched." 
 
 My brother-in-law was ready again. 
 
 " Became bewitched over what ? The 
 skates, the ice or the beautiful creatures ? >! 
 
 " Ah, but you were not asked," retorted 
 my sister. 
 
 " Possibly I was bewitched," the doctor 
 answered ; " it would have been only 
 natural if I had been, but the land had 
 already charmed me so much, that I was 
 prepared for any scene of beauty. The 
 fiery, living liberty, the irrepressible energy 
 impressed me first of all. There is not a 
 sign there of the listlessness of our country- 
 men. One can do the work of ten men 
 and enjoy doing it. Almost every student 
 at my college found time for games besides 
 being present at the lectures regularly, 
 attending to his hospital duties and surgical 
 operations, and staying up late into the 
 night for study. Nor did they entirely 
 absent themselves from dinner parties, balls, 
 and theatres. I became simply speechless 
 in my admiration of their energy." 
 
 " That is the great difference between 
 England and India," remarked my brother- 
 in-law,
 
 138 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 The doctor continued, 
 
 " There is such a beautiful method of 
 working there that one can accomplish 
 a great deal without getting tired. Lives 
 seem to move with the hands of the clock. 
 Whether you go visiting or to meet anyone 
 in business, you go about it as if you had to 
 catch a train, time seems to be so strictly 
 regarded. In the beginning this made me 
 over anxious, and I was often half an hour 
 ahead of the appointed time, lest I should 
 be late, and so I would find myself loitering 
 around the street to pass the time 
 away." 
 
 1 had been silent all along, but at last 
 ventured to put in a word. 
 
 " Whenever I hear stories about England, 
 I wish so much to go there." 
 
 " I think," replied the doctor, " all edu- 
 cated men and women should go there at 
 least once. We are so moribund, it in 
 vigorates us to breathe the free air of liberty. 
 There people are ever tearing down old 
 institutions and building up new ones. 
 Ideals which I dared not cherish here seemed 
 to me there the legitimate object of aspira- 
 tion. I became so bold in my fancies in 
 that free land that I thought I could reform
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 139 
 
 this country single-handed, could e :plode 
 its deeply-rooted prejudices with gunpowder, 
 so to speak. I now blush when I think of 
 my wild dreams." 
 
 " God has incapacitated us," replied my 
 brother-in-law, " there is no help for us. 
 If the climate of India had been like that 
 of England the history of our country might 
 have been written differently." 
 
 " And we should have been born with 
 fairer complexions," remarked my sister. 
 " When our Aryan ancestors crossed the 
 five rivers they are said to have been very 
 fair. When I see the little English children 
 with their soft white faces and cheeks like 
 dolls, I can hardly turn my eyes from them. 
 They seem to me like flowers in bloom. 
 Why has not God made us fair like 
 them ? " 
 
 " You ought not to fret on that account," 
 rejoined her husband. " Have we not proof 
 of the fact that dark beauty conquered 
 where all else failed ? " 
 
 " But oh, fair beauty could have done 
 much more." 
 
 " I do not agree with you," her husband 
 replied. " What do you say, doctor ? You 
 have come back from that land of the sun,
 
 140 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 do you think you can remain unmoved in 
 this land of beautiful moonlight ? You see 
 my plight ? " 
 
 " But you can appreciate the moonlight 
 better, after having been scorched by the 
 sun. Otherwise I fear you would not have 
 remembered your native land. It seems 
 to me people become so fascinated that in 
 a short time they forget country, relations 
 and all. That is really a great surprise to 
 
 me." 
 
 " But the wonder to me is that our Bengali 
 youths do not forget their country alto- 
 gether." It was my brother-in-law who 
 spoke again. " That any of us return as 
 bachelors and marry as soon as we come 
 back in spite of the charms we leave behind, 
 is the most marvellous part of all." 
 
 " Very well, you may return to England, 
 nobody is preventing you," said my sister. 
 
 " Well, well, you are very generous indeed 
 to make me this offer now that you see I 
 am bound down by a chain." 
 
 I do not know how long this jest between 
 husband and wife might have continued 
 had I not interrupted it. 
 
 " Tell me what pleased you most in that 
 land ? " I asked the doctor.
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 141 
 " What pleased me most ? The 
 
 women s 
 
 " Beauty," broke in my brother-in-law. 
 " Good heavens, man, I have never yet 
 been guilty of that remark." 
 
 " It is very courteous of you, doctor," 
 said my sister laughingly, " to tell us that 
 to our face." 
 
 " But pardon, madame, it was not I who 
 said that, it was your husband. What I 
 liked best was the liberty and self-reliance 
 of the women. Day by day their sphere 
 of activity expands until they have begun 
 to invade the realms of politics. The men 
 may laugh at them, but nevertheless they 
 respect their women for it. It is impossible 
 for us to realise here what influence those 
 women exercise on their country and on 
 the individual, and how beneficent that 
 influence is. Our life seems purposeless 
 compared with it." 
 
 " But," I replied, " since in our country 
 men and women mix together so little, it 
 must seem very strange to a new comer to 
 find himself constantly in the company of 
 ladies." 
 
 " That is true. I must admit my con- 
 dition was a miserable one. To give you 
 
 1
 
 142 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 a simile, I felt like one trying to keep afloat 
 in the Ganges with only a thread to guide 
 him to the opposite shore." 
 
 My sister laughed most cordially at this 
 comparison and asked him to explain. 
 
 He continued, " I did not know the 
 habits, manners and customs, nor yet the 
 language properly. We learn the language 
 by studying philosophy, history and science 
 in books, but we cannot carry on a con- 
 versation in short sentences nor return an 
 answer. When introduced to a lady I 
 would become nervous and awkward. I 
 had learned my words entirely from the 
 dictionary and had laid the greatest stress 
 on accent and pronunciation. The result 
 was I could hardly understand English 
 people when they spoke to me. There was 
 still another difficulty. I was told again and 
 again, * You have cut So-and-So ; he lifted 
 his hat to you in the street but you did 
 not return his greeting ! ' Good heavens ! 
 whom had I met, who had lifted his hat 
 to me ? My life was practically teased out 
 of me by having to make excuses for this 
 kind of thing every day. The fact was I 
 did not look around me very much when 
 walking, moreover those white faces looked
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 143 
 
 to me so much alike that unless one was 
 particularly familiar to me, it was difficult 
 for me to recognise it. Again, if I entered 
 a shop to make a purchase worth a penny, 
 I found myself five pounds poorer when 
 going over my cash account that evening, 
 simply on account of the importunity of 
 the shopkeeper. It is necessary to learn 
 to say * no ' in that land, or there is no end 
 of danger. I finally learned to stand erect 
 on English soil, but Heaven alone knows 
 how often I tripped before I accomplished 
 it." 
 
 " At last you became master of the 
 situation ? " asked my sister. 
 
 " I cannot even say that, madame. My 
 Bengali friends used to tell me I was hope- 
 lessly green up to the last." 
 
 " How long did you know Romanath 
 there ? " asked my brother-in-law. 
 
 " I met him at the house of a mutual friend 
 only a few days before I left England." 
 
 " Was he really engaged to be married ? >! 
 
 The doctor looked taken aback. He 
 hesitated for a while and then replied, 
 " I heard so, but I am afraid this is not 
 a fit subject for the dinner table." 
 
 " You are right," replied my brother-in-
 
 144 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 law, " let us discuss the matter another 
 time. I have my own reasons for asking 
 you." 
 
 The subject was dropped accordingly, to 
 my great relief. 
 
 The night that followed was one of 
 exquisite moonlight, sky and earth alike 
 were illumined by a silver glow. We re- 
 paired to the terrace after dinner. 
 
 My sister addressed the doctor, saying, 
 " According to your account everything 
 in England is superb ; but had you ever 
 there a moon like this ? >J 
 
 " Moonlight was rare indeed. Perhaps 
 it was owing to this fact that it used to 
 look so glorious when it did appear." 
 
 " You are hopelessly bewitched, I see," 
 rejoined my sister. " Not only does Eng- 
 land hold the most beautiful women, but 
 the most perfect moon as well. How could 
 you ever in the face of all these fascinations 
 come back again ? Really that puzzles 
 
 me." 
 
 He caressed his handsome beard and 
 smiled. 
 
 " Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. 
 When the chances are good, there is almost 
 always disappointment, and where one
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 145 
 
 expects the least, there often the unexpected 
 happens." 
 
 As he said this he threw a timid glance at 
 me. That glance and the moonlight seemed 
 like harmony blended. A thrill of happiness 
 went through my being and I sighed.
 
 CHAPTER XIV
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 WHEN a visitor leaves he is usually dis- 
 cussed. So after the doctor had taken 
 his leave, we spoke of him for a while. 
 
 " He makes a good impression," remarked 
 my sister. 
 
 " Yes, he is not a bad fellow," rejoined 
 my brother-in-law. " He has not much 
 common sense, though, too much of a 
 woman worshipper I should say." 
 
 " That is good." 
 
 " Who says it is bad ? Poor fellow, I 
 pity him. He is quite lost in admiration 
 of the fair sex. Fancy, an intelligent young 
 man believing in the possibility of a female 
 Shakespeare." 
 
 " Is that such an impossible thing ? " 
 
 " And what is worse still, he does not 
 hesitate to make a fool of himself by ex- 
 pressing his outrageous opinion before others. 
 I wonder if the man has any idea how 
 ludicrous it sounds." 
 
 149
 
 150 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 " It seems to me a proof of the fact that 
 he has great strength of conviction." This 
 remark came from me. 
 
 My brother-in-law turned towards me 
 and said, 
 
 " You are right, it shows his sincerity. 
 I like him the better for his outspoken 
 foolish enthusiasm." 
 
 " The man has a warm heart," said my 
 sister." 
 
 " Yes, and the manners of a perfect 
 gentleman," replied her husband. Then 
 as if a new idea took hold of him suddenly 
 he exclaimed, 
 
 " How would you like to see him married 
 to Moni ? " 
 
 " He is already engaged," replied my 
 sister. 
 
 " Good Gods, who has told you that ? 
 I thought he was rather aw well, never 
 mind what I thought. But who told you 
 that he is engaged ? J: 
 
 " Chanchal's mother told me." 
 
 " Who has tackled him so soon ? The 
 report may after all be mere gossip." 
 
 " No," replied my sister. " It does not 
 seem to be that. She heard it from the 
 doctor's mother, but who the chosen lady
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 151 
 
 is I do not know. I did not enquire. What 
 was the good of my knowing ? >: 
 
 " Bad luck everywhere. Well, let's retire 
 and congratulate the happy pair in our 
 dreams." 
 
 It was fortunate for me that it was dark, 
 they could not therefore see the sudden 
 change in my face. I know I must have 
 turned pale, I felt it. 
 
 Alone in my room that night I found no 
 sleep. I sat by the open window and gazed 
 into the beautiful moonlight before me. 
 Clouds of varying hue passed softly over 
 the sky. I reflected what this evening had 
 brought to me. I saw one face ever before 
 me, until the sorrow that filled my heart 
 overflowed and filled my eyes with tears. 
 
 Was it merely fancy after all ? That 
 deep fond glance he had cast at me, the 
 uncommon cordiality he showed even in 
 ordinary conversation, were they after all 
 no more than the expression of his own 
 deep nature ? How little, how unworthy I 
 suddenly appeared in my own eyes. How 
 could I forget myself so far as to think 
 that this was all for me ? No, it could 
 never, never be, it was all a delusion, a 
 fancy.
 
 152 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 There was the moonlight outside and the 
 light of those eyes in my heart, but the 
 cheerfulness I had felt in his presence was 
 gone and melancholy and dejection took 
 its place, the spring that had entered my 
 heart a few hours ago was already withering 
 before the wintry blast of reality. 
 
 He, too, came back to my mind, the man 
 whose love I had spurned. We are taught 
 Karma, that is to say, the effect of causes 
 created by ourselves. Had this sorrow 
 come upon me because I had caused pain 
 to another ? Had I occasioned my own 
 affliction ? Be that as it might I could not 
 bring back the love that I knew, and this 
 new love had not come to me through any 
 desire on my part. I would gladly have 
 torn it from my heart for ever, for it gave me 
 no happiness. Was it the uncontrollable 
 force of Karma again that had brought this 
 new passion into my life ? If man is not 
 responsible, then why must he suffer so ? 
 Oh, great Creator, behold Thy work, how 
 helpless, how weak are thy creatures ! 
 Still into the darkness of this hour, I felt 
 God's mercy shining, I thought of my child- 
 hood once more, and a pathetic prayer 
 breathed from my heart :
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 153 
 
 " Oh, merciful God, even as Thou took 
 pity upon me when I was a helpless child 
 and gave peace and happiness to my young 
 life, grant me to-day " 
 
 The prayer died unfinished on my lips. 
 What was I doing ? Praying to God to 
 give to me the lawful right of another ? 
 Another was to sacrifice her life's happiness 
 for my sake ? The feeling that came over 
 me with this sudden change of thought 
 overpowered me and I fell helplessly to 
 the ground, and there in my agony I groaned 
 another prayer : 
 
 " Mercy, Divine God, oh grant me strength 
 to endure. Help me to bear up in patience 
 under a trial which will but purify my life 
 in the end. Have mercy, O Lord ! " 
 And thus amid prayers and tears I fell 
 asleep that night, but the dawn brought 
 no relief, the terrible experience of the 
 night just passed was upon me still, and the 
 vision of that face, that look so tender, 
 followed me like a shadow.
 
 CHAPTER XV
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 I REMAINED in the same condition as the day 
 wore on, aimless, without hope, without 
 any desire even to fight the inevitable, yet 
 as water struggles underneath a rock, so did 
 the instinct of life work underneath despair, 
 my emotions were at war with each other. 
 I felt like one bleeding from a thousand 
 wounds in this struggle with myself. I felt 
 as if in God's Kingdom there was not 
 another that suffered as I did. 
 
 And still the whole affair filled me with 
 amazement at my own nature. I had known 
 him only a few days, I had spoken to him a 
 few times only. Was I then going mad 
 that I should give way to my feelings in this 
 way ? I felt as if I could draw into my 
 being at once all the beauty and sorrow, the 
 joy and agony, the happiness and misery of 
 all existence since that sacred moment when 
 my soul touched his. 
 
 I had thought I loved the other, but oh, 
 L 157
 
 158 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 how far short had been that feeling of what 
 now controlled me. He had fascinated me 
 with a song, had brought upon me the pain 
 of past memories. What knew I then of this 
 complete immolation of body and soul ? 
 That emotion had been but the outcome of 
 a strong sympathy, a deep-rooted faith in 
 love I had thought to be genuine, but when 
 it had been unable to stand the test, the 
 faith that had gone with it, and which I 
 had mistaken for love, had died out. Now 
 even though the feeling I had for this man 
 brought me no happiness, nay worse, car- 
 ried me to the every verge of despair itself, 
 yet I had no desire to get away from it, it 
 became on the contrary more firmly rooted 
 in my being with every fleeting moment. 
 My daily duties became a thing apart 
 from my life. People came and spoke 
 of affairs, I spoke with them, but it all 
 seemed like something far away, some- 
 thing in which I was no longer concerned. 
 I endeavoured to forget him, but every 
 endeavour brought nearer to me the con- 
 sciousness of my great love. My being 
 became composed of it, and whatever came 
 into my life became converted into it. The 
 very breezes wiiispered of a love that was
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 159 
 
 mine, mine, and yet not mine. From out 
 the vastness of space came a cry of despair, 
 of agony. 
 
 " I ask not to be his," called out my 
 feeble heart. " I ask but to see him, to 
 hear his voice at times. Grant me that, 
 oh Fate, and I shall feel compensated for 
 the sorrow of existence." There was no 
 wounded pride in this, I had no pride to 
 wound, humility alone claimed me as her 
 own. 
 
 Thus as the days went by the fire in 
 my soul burnt on. I knew not whether 
 time would bring peace, but it seemed to 
 me there was but one flame that could 
 extinguish the agony, the pain that would 
 not leave me, and that was the last, the 
 flame that consumes all that is mortal 
 in man. Was I really to drag on this life 
 until I was old ? I shuddered at the very 
 thought. Was this, then, the love I had 
 dreamt of, was it to find its realisation 
 in a yearning not to be satisfied, a groping 
 for something that could not be grasped ? 
 
 Chanchal came to see me one afternoon. 
 She was my bosom friend. We were in the 
 habit of spending one day together at least 
 once a week. Her searching eyes noticed
 
 160 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 a change in me, the melancholy that was 
 written on my face did not escape her. 
 
 " You say it has not affected you ? It 
 is too terrible to see how you look. I am 
 so angry with him. And just think of it, 
 my uncle and aunt proposed to marry 
 my cousin to him." Chanchal became 
 excited as she said this. 
 
 " I am very glad to hear it," I replied. 
 
 " Moni, do you mean that ? Can you tell 
 me in good faith that you do not love him 
 any more, that you are not sorry because 
 the engagement has been broken off ? " 
 
 " I am not sorry. Chanchal, do you think 
 I would tell you an untruth ? I might not 
 tell you all that is in my heart, but tell you 
 a falsehood never." 
 
 Chanchal was evidently delighted at this 
 assurance. She pressed my cheeks between 
 her palms and exclaimed : 
 
 " You dear, sweet friend, I do not know 
 then what ails you. You are not in your 
 best mood. Certainly you trusted this 
 man, and he deceived you. That must 
 cause you pain." 
 
 " Yes, it caused me some pain, that I will 
 not deny, but do not think that I am pining 
 over that affair now."
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 161 
 
 " If I had been in your place I should 
 have died. If ever a week passes without 
 a letter from England for me, I don't know 
 what I am doing." 
 
 " Ah, but you are married. Even if 
 your husband should forget you, you can 
 never forget him, but my case was different ; 
 I could forget and I did." 
 
 " That may be the difference. Cousin 
 Kusum, too, is quite at ease. I see I intro- 
 duced perhaps too much of my own feeling 
 into the matter when sympathising with 
 you. Have you heard that Kusum's en- 
 gagement to Mr. Roy, too, has been broken 
 off ? " 
 
 " No, I have not heard of it. Why ? " 
 
 " That I do not know. They do not dis- 
 close everything to us, but I hear from other 
 people that the marriage will not take place. 
 I believe it is Romanath who has broken it 
 off, because I understood Kusum was willing. 
 Really the man must have extraordinary 
 powers, or never would he have been 
 able to make an impression on cousin 
 Kusum ! " 
 
 This news affected me. I felt remorse 
 again. Why should he have objected to 
 this marriage ? Was this on my account
 
 162 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 still ? Chanchal noticed my pensive mood 
 and enquired, 
 
 " What are you thinking so earnestly ? " 
 
 " Did your cousin really love him ? " I 
 asked Chancal. " My heart aches for her. 
 Had I the power I would bring about the 
 marriage." 
 
 " You ? You pity my cousin ? Would 
 she waste so much sentiment on you ? 
 There is no need to pity my cousin, she has 
 sufficient self-love and knows her own value 
 too well, and perhaps she has reason on her 
 side. She is beautiful and accomplished, 
 and the man who marries her will get a prin- 
 cess and half a kingdom. There is no know- 
 ing how many men are sighing for her. If 
 you want to pity, rather pity those dis- 
 appointed suitors. If cousin Kusum really 
 did receive a scar from this affair, rest 
 assured it is healed by this time." 
 
 " You should not be so quick to judge. 
 Do you not know that they remember 
 longest who do not fall in love easily ? " 
 
 " Yes, if my cousin had loved him in any 
 high degree, but don't you fear that she has 
 done that. The man is attractive, he 
 creates a temporary impression on others 
 by his conversation and manners, but I do
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 163 
 
 not see how any one could fall in love with 
 him very deeply. I could not, of that I am 
 certain, and it now appears that you did not 
 either, and yet you think Kusum might have 
 lost her heart." 
 
 " You exhibit extraordinary logic." 
 
 " We read much in English literature of 
 love at first sight, but, believe me, that means 
 only a slight emotion that inexperienced 
 youth mistakes for love. Now it is just 
 possible that Kusum felt a little bubbling 
 of the heart, but no doubt it has subsided 
 ere this. True love can never be based on 
 mere impulse ; that requires a training of 
 the heart and a fit object to rest upon. Yet 
 if I heard of somebody falling in love with 
 the doctor I could understand it. Do you 
 know we joke cousin Kusum about him ; he 
 has become their family physician. I sus- 
 pect he has been tackled." 
 
 The blood coursed madly through my 
 veins, my face became flushed, and I feared 
 I would betray myself, but Chanchal did 
 not notice it, her attention was just then 
 attracted in another direction. 
 
 " Here you are, coz," she exclaimed. 
 " You will live long. We were just talking 
 about you, and now you have come."
 
 164 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 And really there stood Kusum. I had 
 not met her for a long time. She looked 
 greatly changed. Her eyes lacked their 
 usual brilliancy, and the self-conscious smile 
 that was generally on her lips had dis- 
 appeared. I felt sorry for her, and fearing 
 that she might think me ungracious spoke 
 to her pleasantly and said : 
 
 " I am so glad to see you, Kusum, I have 
 not seen you for an age." 
 
 Kusum was reserved and she replied : 
 
 " I have often thought of calling on you, 
 but I could not somehow or other succeed 
 in doing so, but why did you not call at our 
 place all this time ? >! 
 
 I was somewhat at a loss for a reply, but 
 presently said : 
 
 " I am going home shortly. I have been 
 busy." 
 
 " Going into the wilderness in her grief," 
 interrupted Chanchal. 
 
 That was ungracious of Chanchal. What 
 would Kusum think of me ? She herself 
 seemed to realise that she had said the 
 wrong thing ; she, therefore, changed the 
 subject, and asked Kusum about the 
 doctor. 
 
 Kusum replied sharply :
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 165 
 
 " What do I know of him ? Perhaps 
 Moni can tell you, he comes to her house 
 often enough. Why should she grieve about 
 any one ? Others would consider them- 
 selves lucky if they had her good fortune." 
 
 Her object was to vent her feelings on 
 me, but she let out the truth at the same 
 time. As she spoke she sighed, and jealousy 
 and despair shone out of her eyes. It 
 was plain Kusum had fallen in love, but 
 the question remained with whom with 
 Romanath or with the doctor ?
 
 CHAPTER XVI
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THERE could no longer be any doubt about 
 it that Kusum loved the doctor. Chanchal 
 was only surmising, she did not know how 
 the matter stood. It was evident that 
 Kusum had broken off the engagement with 
 Romanath herself ; why should he have 
 objected to so favourable a match ? 
 
 As long as there is no moonlight the stars 
 appear bright enough, but let the moon come 
 and the stars grow dim. Kusum might have 
 admired Romanath as long as she did not 
 know the doctor, but it was evident now 
 that she had become attached to the latter, 
 otherwise why should she have become so 
 flurried at the mere mention of his name ? 
 Poor Romanath, how sorry I felt for him ! 
 
 Thus through the long hours of the night 
 these thoughts passed through my brain. 
 How fortunate Kusum was. Was I getting 
 jealous of her ? Perhaps. People say there 
 is always a certain amount of jealousy 
 169
 
 \ 
 
 170 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 in love. Could I consider myself of a 
 different mould from women generally ? 
 Jealousy, if such it was, impressed me as a 
 very harmless feeling, it died away in a 
 sigh, it left no malice behind it. How 
 could I indeed allow such a feeling to spring 
 up, for surely Kusum was not guilty of any 
 wrong, she had not robbed me of anything ? 
 What I never possessed could not be taken 
 from me. If he loved her, it was through her 
 own deserts, and if he did not love her, it 
 did not necessarily follow that he should 
 bestow his love on me. The strangest part 
 of it all was, that I began to love Kusum, 
 for whom I had not so far cherished even 
 friendship. The feeling became so strong, 
 I felt I must draw her towards me, and 
 acting on the impulse I rose from my bed 
 with the intention of writing to her, but as 
 I sat down at my desk I thought better of 
 it. What would Kusum think of me ? 
 How absurd I would appear in her eyes. 
 
 . When my sister saw me the next morning 
 she addressed me cheerfully, 
 
 " Do you know that he is coming here ? " 
 My heart began to beat rapidly. 
 " When ? " I asked. 
 " To-morrow, to the tennis party. You
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 171 
 
 do not speak of your sorrow, but the way 
 in which you are getting more emaciated 
 every day brings the tears to my eyes." 
 
 I became embarrassed, so even my sister 
 had noticed it. 
 
 " Becoming emaciated ! That is all non- 
 
 sense." 
 
 " Why do you grieve so," replied my 
 sister, " over a trifling mistake ? " 
 
 I started, it was clear she was not speaking 
 of the doctor. 
 
 My sister continued. " There is no doubt 
 about the fact that he loves you. He met 
 my husband the other day and himself 
 broached the subject. He said he was mor- 
 tified by your behaviour, and though there 
 was pressure brought to bear on him from 
 another direction to marry a certain young 
 lady, he had not pledged himself. If you 
 will consent even now he is ready to sacrifice 
 everything. He will come to-morrow, now 
 see that you don't get into a misunderstand- 
 ing again. You both care for each other, 
 why so much fuss over a little difference ? " 
 
 My head reeled. I knew it was impossible 
 for me to love him. Then marry him 
 never. I calmly replied : 
 
 *' He will have to make no sacrifice on my
 
 172 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 account. Why have you renewed this 
 affair ? I cannot marry him." 
 
 " You are too fastidious about a word," 
 replied my sister. " Just because he has 
 used the word * sacrifice ' you take offence." 
 
 " You are mistaken, sister, I have taken 
 no offence. I do not love him, and I do not 
 think he loves me. Why should I accept a 
 sacrifice from one for whom I do not care ? 
 If he did, he would not speak of sacrifice." 
 
 My sister laughed and said, 
 
 " I cannot overcome your argument, 
 Moni, but he will come to-morrow, and he 
 will be able to meet your logic and soothe 
 your troubled feelings." 
 
 I saw she did not understand me yet, and 
 I therefore tried to explain. 
 
 " Didi,* you are really making a mistake. 
 I do not feel offended. On the contrary, 
 I am glad to think that he may have found 
 another. A great responsibility has been 
 taken from me. I always knew I could not 
 love this man, and now I see he does not 
 love me either, and yet I am supposed to be 
 the cause of his unhappiness. It is a wrong 
 way of reasoning." 
 
 My sister became annoyed with me again 
 
 * Respectful form of addressing elder sister.
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 173 
 
 " Moni, I have never before seen a girl so 
 selfish as you are. You have a set notion 
 in your mind that he does not love you, 
 and you are holding on to it as if it were a 
 treasure. However, all will be settled to- 
 morrow. Let there be an interview, and 
 then let us know the result." 
 
 I tried to remonstrate with my sister, 
 I pleaded with her. 
 
 " I cannot see him, sister, believe me, 
 I cannot. No, tell him I am ill.'. 
 
 " I cannot do that, Moni. My husband 
 has asked him to come, and has given him to 
 understand that you have no further objec- 
 tion to the marriage, and now you say you 
 will not see him. This is really too bad." 
 
 " What can I do ? If I meet him, I 
 shall only have to say the same thing over 
 again to him. Believe me, Didi, I can never 
 marry this man." 
 
 " Do you know that people are already 
 laughing about us ? Do you realise what 
 that means to us and to you more particu- 
 larly ? Do you think you are acting wisely ? " 
 
 " I cannot love him." 
 
 " You are an extraordinary girl. Only a 
 few days back you loved him so ardently, 
 and now you declare you can never love 
 
 M
 
 174 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 him. Never mind, don't give way to foolish 
 notions. Once you are married, you will 
 understand that you do love him." 
 
 My sister's persistence drove me almost 
 to despair. 
 
 " Sister, I implore you, do not force me 
 to see him, I do not understand everything. 
 I thought for a while that I loved him, but 
 I know better now. If I marry him, two 
 lives will be made miserable." 
 
 " Then do exactly as you think best for 
 yourself. I have no more to say. I have 
 never yet seen such an obstinate girl." 
 
 And my sister walked away angry and 
 excited to a high degree.
 
 CHAPTER XVII
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 I HAVE had many and great struggles in 
 my life, but they have not overpowered me 
 as this one did. I felt as if I were facing 
 a great danger, standing alone in the dark 
 while sharp weapons were aimed at me from 
 every direction. Overcome by anguish, I 
 prostrated my sorrow-stricken soul at the 
 feet of the Divine Mother. 
 
 " Oh, Mother of Mercy," I pleaded, 
 " open up the earth before me that I may 
 bury myself therein." 
 
 And lo, the Mother took compassion upon 
 me and sent redress, for while I was still 
 praying a servant announced my father's 
 arrival. There was hope, there was light. 
 Father had come to the rescue. He had 
 previously written that he would come, but 
 I had not expected him so soon. 
 
 He had gone to my sister's room and I 
 went there to greet him, but when I ap- 
 proached the door, I became so frightened, 
 thinking of what had happened, I dared not 
 177
 
 iy8 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 go further. From the room came angry 
 voices. My father seemed in a passion of 
 rage and was remonstrating with my sister. 
 I knew that all this was on my account, 
 and remained standing on the threshold. 
 They did not notice me. 
 
 " I tell you," I heard my father say, 
 " it is a wonder to me that I have not gone 
 mad over all I have heard. You tell me 
 that Moni herself broke off the engagement, 
 but it is being whispered about that he 
 found the girl wanting in goodness and 
 modesty and therefore refused to marry her. 
 What am I to say to that ? " 
 
 " It is false," replied my sister emphati- 
 cally. 
 
 " False, of course it's false ! How many 
 girls are there that possess the inborn 
 humility and modesty that Moni has." 
 
 " Yes, that is true, but I meant even more. 
 Mr. Roy has never said unkind things about 
 Moni. He is even now willing to marry 
 her." 
 
 " Willing to marry her ! Do you think 
 I will give my daughter to that man F " 
 
 " But try and be calm, father, and you 
 will see that all scandal will immediately 
 be averted if she marries him."
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 179 
 
 " Whatever people may say, whatever 
 scandal and disgrace there may be, it is 
 certain I will never give my child to that 
 wicked man." 
 
 " But, father, you do the man injustice, 
 you do not know him. I am certain these 
 reports do not come from him." 
 
 But my father's anger was not pacified, 
 he continued as before : " He is a scoundrel. 
 He feels humiliated because our Moni will 
 not marry him, and to save himself he has 
 circulated these reports, and I am to give 
 my girl to him ? Never ! I will take Moni 
 home with me to-night. I will myself secure 
 a bridegroom for her, one whom I can trust. 
 I want no more of your English court- 
 ships." 
 
 My sister urged him to remain at least 
 for a day or two, but my father would listen 
 to no entreaties. That very night we left 
 for Dacca. I was happy when I stepped 
 into the train, I felt a burden taken from me. 
 I committed myself entirely to my father's 
 care, and oh, how peaceful it felt, but, alas ! 
 I was awakened from my dream too soon ; 
 this is a world that envies us repose and 
 peace. 
 
 When we were on board the steamer
 
 i8o AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 passing along the river Padma father sud- 
 denly said : 
 
 " Do you remember Chotu ? J! 
 
 " Yes, father, I do." 
 
 " His mother wishes to make you her 
 daughter-in-law, and I, too, would like to 
 take Chotu as my son. It is not every day 
 such a desirable bridegroom is to be had. 
 If fortune favours us, we will celebrate the 
 marriage with as little delay as possible 
 after we arrive at Dacca." 
 
 I felt like one struck by lightning. I 
 remembered the time when being married 
 to Chotu was the one vision of my youthful 
 life, but now !
 
 CHAPTER XVIII
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 No sooner had I crossed the threshold of 
 my father's house, than my aunt accosted 
 me. 
 
 " Good Heavens, what a big girl, and not 
 married ! What will people say when they 
 see her ? How can we eat our rice and have 
 that girl on our hands." 
 
 My father appeared nervous and tried 
 to make excuses. 
 
 " She will not be unmarried much longer. 
 Everything has been settled, as you know. 
 So don't get excited." 
 
 His words were barely audible, and he 
 seemed to be anxious to get away, but my 
 aunt was fretting still. She continued : 
 
 " Indeed, yes, why should I worry ? It 
 is all very well to talk, but people will come 
 to see her, and what will they say when they 
 see such a big girl unmarried ? It will not 
 be you then who will have to listen to it all, 
 it will be I who will have to reply to it." 
 
 Poor aunt ! she had indeed cause for 
 183
 
 1 84 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 anxiety. No sooner had the news spread 
 about that I had come home, than there 
 were visitors by the dozen. It seemed as 
 if the whole female population of the town 
 had turned out to greet me. Relations, 
 friends, neighbours, every one knew me 
 and had a claim upon me, and the burden of 
 their song was ever the same ! 
 
 " What ! such a big girl and not married ! 
 How can you eat your rice, how can you 
 sleep at night ? " etc., etc. The condemna- 
 tion fell upon my father and every one 
 went away with the satisfaction of having 
 said something sharp about him. He had 
 neglected his duty as a father, he had 
 sinned against Society. He had a nineteen- 
 year-old spinster on his hands, and that 
 was an unpardonable offence. 
 
 Aunt forgot her grief over my sad lot by 
 joining the chorus. She, too, began to 
 blame my father and seemed to take a 
 morbid delight in doing so. My condition 
 in the face of all this can be understood. 
 My life became well-nigh unbearable. Still 
 I felt resolved on one point it would be 
 far better for me to remain unmarried and 
 continue being worried than to be joined to a 
 man for whom my heart cared not. The
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 185 
 
 whole affair put a severe strain upon me, 
 under which my nervous system threatened 
 to break down. 
 
 These things continued to be of daily 
 recurrence the unsparing criticism of the 
 people, aunt's admonitions to my father, 
 his assurance that all would be well in the 
 end ; but I heard no more of any settled 
 marriage, nor was Chotu mentioned to 
 me again. So notwithstanding the fact 
 that my heart was by no means entirely 
 at ease, I became more composed daily. 
 Trepidation left me and I gradually became 
 so calm that I could take a reasonable 
 view of what was going on around me. 
 If people said unkind things, it was because 
 they could not overcome time-honoured 
 custom, I argued, and instead of being 
 annoyed with them any longer, I began to 
 respect them for the strength of their 
 convictions. 
 
 Suddenly my palace of calm was broken 
 to pieces again, for father took me by 
 surprise one day during dinner ; he an- 
 nounced : 
 
 " Chotu will be here in a day or two. 
 The date of the marriage will be fixed as 
 soon as he comes."
 
 i86 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 This was good news for aunt. She ejacu- 
 lated with delight : 
 
 " The bridegroom is himself coming ! 
 I thought his mother was coming first. 
 But never mind that, times are changing 
 and nowadays a young man must see his 
 bride before marrying her. Let him see her 
 then, that does not matter, but no further 
 delays. The marriage must take place this 
 month and no later." 
 
 My father agreed with her. 
 
 " That too is my wish," he replied.
 
 CHAPTER XIX
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 I DID not know what happened to me after 
 this information, my mind was in a turmoil. 
 After dinner father went to the outer 
 apartment and I was left to think over 
 my fate. Suddenly I felt myself growing 
 strong, my natural shyness left me, and I 
 entered my room still confused, yet with 
 a strong determination. I would let my 
 father know how I felt. I could not face 
 him and explain, but I could write, and 
 write I did. 
 
 " To your honoured feet, 
 
 " Dear Father, 
 
 I have no desire to marry. I 
 have examined my heart carefully, and I 
 know I shall find no happiness in marriage. 
 Do not therefore think my resolution is 
 the result of a foolish fancy. I hear that 
 in England many a girl remains unmarried 
 and spends her life in service to her country. 
 Grant me to do likewise, let me dedicate 
 N 189
 
 i 9 o AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 my life in service to the Motherland. There 
 alone will I find happiness. Do not, I 
 beseech you, dear father, make me unhappy 
 by urging me into marriage. 
 
 " Your loving daughter, 
 
 " MRINALINI." 
 
 I sent a servant with the letter to father, 
 taking care that it should reach him before 
 he went out again. I waited for a reply 
 with anxious and palpitating heart. Pres- 
 ently I heard footsteps, my father was 
 coming. Suddenly my shyness returned 
 and I thought I could not show him my face 
 again. He entered the room and remained 
 standing in one spot. I felt his gaze upon 
 me although I stood with my head bent 
 down. After a pause he spoke : 
 
 *' I see you have a very mistaken idea 
 about marriage. Must you necessarily re- 
 main single in order to serve your country ? 
 Even if you did, you could not do much 
 in that direction under the present con- 
 ditions. You will be able to fulfil the 
 duties of your life far better married than 
 single, and I have not the least doubt that 
 you will be happy. For both the temporal 
 and spiritual well-being of woman marriage
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 191 
 
 is the best road. You are only a child and 
 know nothing of life. If I acted upon your 
 advice I would prepare unhappiness for 
 you. It is my regret that I have not been 
 able to marry you before now, but for- 
 tunately I have succeeded in securing a 
 good bridegroom in the end. Thank God 
 for this blessing and be prepared to receive 
 your husband with a joyful heart." 
 
 My father did not wait for a reply but 
 left me abruptly. His determination was 
 firm, I was powerless. I realised I could 
 not disobey him. I was after all but a 
 weak Bengali girl ; I could but obey. There 
 was no alternative. I could not after this 
 speak further to my father, so I had to face 
 the inevitable.
 
 CHAPTER XX
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 As it began to dawn upon me more and 
 more that there was no escaping, thoughts 
 crowded my brain in mad confusion. I 
 saw not the world that surrounded me, I 
 was hardly aware of time and space, my 
 mind had entered a dreamy state. At 
 intervals I felt a sensation of acute pain, 
 a desire to see light through the darkness 
 that enshrouded me. At these moments 
 I felt like one maddened by a keen struggle 
 to break through chains that are too strong 
 to be broken. It seemed like irony that 
 of all men Chotu should be the cause of 
 all this, Chotu whom I had loved so much, 
 upon whom I had looked as a friend. Then 
 suddenly a thought dawned upon me, it 
 came like a revelation : Chotu, the friend 
 of my childhood, whom I had trusted as 
 never another, Chotu was to be my saviour 
 now. To him I would explain everything 
 and he would come to my rescue. Now my 
 mental atmosphere became clear once more. 
 
 195
 
 196 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 I felt like one giddy with joy at the inspira- 
 tion that had taken hold of me. Yes, 
 Chotu would save me. 
 
 While still I was reflecting upon all that 
 might or might not be, a servant came and 
 handed me a card. What strange accident 
 of fate was this ? The doctor ! my heart 
 stood almost still ; it was not joy that 
 caused it, but amazement. I was like one 
 in a trance when I told the servant to show 
 him in. I was alone in the drawing-room, 
 the only private apartment the house 
 afforded. I had fled thither to be away 
 from the curiosity and annoying remarks 
 of friends. 
 
 Oh, that I knew what was the right 
 thing for me to do. Was it then really 
 proper that I should receive him ? It was 
 useless, however, for me to weigh the ques- 
 tion further, for before me stood the doctor 
 ere I had time for serious reflection. 
 
 " You appear very poorly, are you suffer- 
 ing still ? " He said this almost immediately 
 after entering. 
 
 I do not know whether there was the 
 expression of any deep sympathy in these 
 words, but they affected me deeply. It 
 required great effort to supp ress my tears
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 197 
 
 and I could falter only a few words in 
 reply. 
 
 * You here ? How did you come ? >: 
 He seemed surprised. " Did you not know 
 I would come ? I wrote to Mr. Mazumdar 
 (my father) that I would be here to-day." 
 
 My father was not in the habit of com- 
 municating all his affairs to me. I therefore 
 replied, " No, I had not heard of it. You 
 have perhaps come here in connection with 
 
 a case." 
 
 He remained silent for a while, then 
 said : 
 
 " I have come here expressly to see 
 you. I had no other object in coming." 
 
 This was a great surprise to me, he had 
 come expressly to see me ! On the impulse 
 of the moment I cried out : 
 
 " That is really extraordinary ; you did 
 not seem so eager to see me in Calcutta." 
 
 He smiled and fixed his clear, full gaze 
 upon me. 
 
 " I see I made one of my many mistakes 
 in acting as I did, but did you not under- 
 stand me ? Did you not feel why it was I 
 came so seldom f " 
 
 " How could I understand ? " 
 
 He adjusted his eyeglasses, he was evi-
 
 198 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 dently a little nervous, then he looked at 
 me with that sweet, tender look that I had 
 seen in his eyes when he leaned over me as 
 I woke from my deep faint. 
 
 " I remained away only to control my 
 desire to come again and again," he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " Then am I to understand that because 
 you have come now, you wish never to 
 come again ? " 
 
 " That would be making a mistake again," 
 he replied, smiling sadly, and then as I 
 did not speak, after a pause he began again : 
 
 " Circumstances have changed since I 
 first met you. You were then engaged to 
 be married. That is all over now, that is 
 why " 
 
 Again he was silent, while I stood with 
 throbbing heart, the perspiration breaking 
 out upon my forehead. Was it really 
 true ? What did all this mean ? He con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " That is why I have come to offer you 
 my life, my soul, my being the decision 
 lies with you." 
 
 Can language describe the moments that 
 followed ? I felt myself lifted to the realms 
 of ecstasy. All existence seemed merged
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 199 
 
 into that moment. He was mine, mine, 
 my heart throbbed, my head reeled, I 
 could not grasp it. If there be Heaven on 
 earth it came to me that minute when he 
 offered his life to me, but alas ! this great 
 earth of ours holds the reality of Heaven 
 but a second and then appears more threat- 
 ening than ever. I felt as if by some 
 mocking phantom I had been led to the 
 gates of Paradise, there to bid farewell to 
 it for ever. 
 
 Seeing I did not answer, he spoke again : 
 
 " Have you nothing to say to me ? Ever 
 since the day I saw you after my return from 
 abroad, I have known that I love you, that 
 without you my life will be empty." 
 
 I interrupted him. " But you are en- 
 gaged." 
 
 " Am I ? I did not know it. Where did 
 you hear that ? " 
 
 " I understand your mother herself said 
 
 so." 
 
 He laughed and replied, 
 
 " My mother said so ! Well, I am not 
 surprised to hear that. Whenever my mother 
 sees a girl who appears good-looking to her 
 she makes up her mind that that very girl 
 must become her daughter-in-law. If poly-
 
 200 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 gamy were still in vogue, she would have 
 had half a dozen daughters-in-law by this 
 time. Don't let that disturb you further. 
 I am asking for a reply to my appeal." 
 
 What could I say ? Was I not his, body 
 and soul ? How could I tell him that I was 
 to become the wife of another ? At last 
 I replied timidly, hardly knowing myself 
 how I came to say it : 
 
 " I am engaged. Father has already 
 settled my marriage." 
 
 How strangely sad he looked, how strange- 
 ly still the room seemed, for neither 
 of us dared to speak after that for a long 
 time. 
 
 I saw the struggle that went on within him. 
 At last he spoke, but his voice was barely 
 audible. 
 
 " What made Mr. Mazumdar behave in 
 this way ? However, let that pass, it 
 should be discussed with him. I ask you 
 only to reply to one question. Do you 
 wish to marry the man your father has 
 selected for you ? " 
 
 All at once I lost my shyness, I lifted my 
 head high and looked into his eyes as I 
 spoke. 
 
 " No, I do not wish it. I have loved you
 
 since the day I met you first, and I shall 
 never love another." 
 
 I saw his face change all of a sudden, he 
 looked like one inspired, and when he spoke 
 again his voice was sweet and mellow. 
 
 " Have you told your father this ? " 
 
 I was surprised at his question. " How 
 can I say this to my father F " I replied. 
 " I only told him that I wished to remain 
 unmarried, that marriage would not make 
 me happy." 
 
 " And his reply ? " 
 
 " He told me I must marry. Poor father, 
 how can I disobey him ? Is it not my duty 
 to make him happy ? " 
 
 " But do you owe no duty to love, do you 
 owe no duty to yourself, nor yet to the man 
 who cannot face life without you ? Ought 
 you to sacrifice your life and his to some 
 misconceived idea of duty ? I really do not 
 think your father would force you into 
 marriage with another if he once came to 
 know how the matter stands." 
 
 I knew that what he said was only too 
 true, but I did not reply until he spoke again, 
 with an air of impatience this time. 
 
 " If you cannot speak to your father, let 
 me do so."
 
 202 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 " No, no, do not speak to my father. 
 Listen, I have a plan. The man to whom 
 my father has betrothed me is a friend of my 
 childhood, Chotu, we called him. I have 
 great faith in him. I know Chotu will save 
 me. I loved him when I was a little girl, 
 and I regard him still as a dear friend. The 
 thought of him fills me with happy memories, 
 but I cannot give him my heart. I am cer- 
 tain Chotu would never wish me to be un- 
 happy, I know him too well for that." 
 
 " Chotu ? " he exclaimed, " you are to be 
 married to Chotu ? Certainly, if he has any 
 manliness in him, he will help you." 
 
 He almost laughed out loud as he said 
 this. I could not understand him and en- 
 quired : 
 
 " Do you know Chotu ? " 
 
 He did not reply to my question. It 
 seemed he did not hear it. He only said : 
 
 " This is a world of illusions. Well, tell 
 Chotu and let me know the result. I am 
 off. I may come back this evening, but if 
 I do not come until to-morrow, do not take 
 it amiss. I have not seen your father yet." 
 
 And he departed rather abruptly I 
 thought, not allowing me to say a word in 
 reply.
 
 CHAPTER XXI
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 HAPPINESS at last, my father willing, but 
 the doctor had not come and I could not 
 communicate the good news to him. It 
 was a moonlight night, and I seated myself 
 in the garden, anxiously looking down the 
 road. He was coming now, and I went to 
 meet him. By the time I reached the road, 
 however, he had gone so far ahead, he saw 
 me not. I followed him, but lost sight of 
 him at a turning. I became anxious and 
 climbed up an elevation to see where he had 
 gone. Just then a girl came to me with a 
 flower basket in her hand. It was Prabha, 
 a friend of my early life who had been one 
 of my little schoolmates at Babu Krishna 
 Mohan's school. I greeted her, and she 
 replied, " When did you come ? I only 
 arrived myself to-day. I plucked these 
 flowers for you and wish to present them to 
 you now." 
 
 I answered, " I am in a difficulty. I wish 
 to speak to him, but cannot find him." 
 o 205
 
 206 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 " Come to my place," she said. 
 
 Then her younger brother came along on 
 horseback. Prabha asked, 
 
 " Do you know where the doctor is ? >: 
 
 " Yes, I do," came the reply. " If you 
 will mount my horse, Moni, I will show you 
 where he is." 
 
 I mounted the horse and it ran oS like 
 lightning. It ascended a high rocky plain. 
 I tried to check it, but it flew on like Pak- 
 shiraja. I thought I should fall to the 
 ground. Then a camel came down . the 
 road. The driver saw my danger and 
 jumped down to stop my horse, but it had 
 already stopped. I got down. It was 
 dark now, night had come, and I found my- 
 self in an unknown and desolate place. I 
 could not return home because I could not 
 find my way. I walked up the road, but it 
 became narrower and narrower as I pro- 
 ceeded, and there were high walls of earth 
 on either side of it. At the end of the lane 
 there was a small cottage. I entered it. 
 In it was an old lady with a calm, sweet 
 face. She spoke to me and bade me 
 enter : " Come in, little mother, come. 
 Where are you going ? Come and sit 
 down."
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 207 
 
 " I have lost my way," I replied, but she 
 did not seem to hear me. 
 
 " Come and sit down and take a little 
 coSee," she continued. " Do you see my 
 garden in front of the house ? I planted 
 coffee there with my own hands." 
 
 A lamp was burning in the room. Orna- 
 ments and garments were scattered on the 
 floor around the lamp. 
 
 " Why are these things lying here ? " I 
 questioned. 
 
 " She has gone away. She promised 
 to come back ; so far she has not come, but 
 she will be here presently." 
 
 " Who ? " 
 
 " My daughter-in-law ; she is beautiful 
 as the golden moon." 
 
 I saw she was a maniac. She had lost 
 her daughter-in-law, and now she awaited 
 her return, keeping her ornaments and gar- 
 ments scattered in the room with her. I 
 felt sad to see all this, and my eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 The old lady continued, " Mother, who 
 are you ? Are you my daughter-in-law ? 
 Have you come at last ? He has gone into 
 exile, and has not yet returned." 
 
 My heart felt as if it were breaking, and
 
 208 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 tears flowed from my eyes. And then I 
 awoke and found myself still weeping. I 
 looked at my watch. Scarcely half-an- 
 hour had elapsed since the doctor's depart- 
 ure, and I might not have slept more than 
 five minutes, but the heavy load of despair 
 that had weighed on my mind before I went 
 to sleep had awakened with me. I was 
 as sad as ever. I stood by the window 
 pondering over the fate that was before me. 
 If I told Chotu everything in the hope that 
 he would rescue me, might I not find myself 
 mistaken ? He might not after all be 
 the good man I supposed him to be. In 
 reality I did not know anything about him. 
 Perhaps Chotu loved me still and would 
 insist on marrying me. My heart felt doubly 
 sad as this thought suggested itself. I 
 looked up to the sky in supplication, I 
 pleaded with the Divine Mother to save me. 
 It was the time of sunset, the clouds were 
 gloriously tinted, and a magnificent spec- 
 tacle it was to see the great masses of cloud, 
 overspread with all the colours of the rain- 
 bow, ever changing as the moments passed ; 
 rose, violet, yellow, green, and crimson 
 softly mingling their shades until the heavens 
 appeared like a coloured mountain range.
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 209 
 
 Red clouds bordered with blue and white 
 shaded with black, grey softly tinged with 
 rose, an exquisite blending of each colour 
 with another. 
 
 One colour ever shaded with another, 
 " Yes, such," I murmured, " are the ways 
 of this world, never a smile without a tear, 
 no happiness without an equal portion of 
 sorrow. I wish some God would change 
 this law, and make mankind happier." 
 And yet why should I lament ? What was 
 I after all but an atom in the great ocean of 
 life? 
 
 I found myself seated at the piano before 
 I knew it. I began to play unconsciously, 
 I knew not why, the song that was so near 
 my heart : 
 
 Alas, we met 
 
 When moon and stars had faded, 
 Spring-time had fled and flowers withered lay. 
 Garland in hand through the dark night I awaited 
 The bridegroom who would come when all was bright 
 
 and gay. 
 Then the house would be filled with fragrance and 
 
 soft music, 
 And the mellow flute the tune of Sahana would 
 
 play.' 1 
 
 This was all I knew of the song, and I sang 
 it over and over again. Suddenly, I heard
 
 210 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 some one singing behind me, finishing the 
 song : 
 
 " Alas, it came, the longed-for moment auspicious, 
 But I saw him not then, for heavy with sleep were 
 
 my eyes. 
 I wreathed not his brow at the moment the gods had 
 
 selected. 
 I woke from my sleep, and lo, dark and cold were the 
 
 skies, 
 And faded the wreath. I hung on his neck the dead 
 
 garland, 
 While my heart throbbed with pain and heavy my 
 
 bosom with sighs. 
 
 Alas, we met 
 
 When moon and stars had faded, 
 Spring-time had fled and flowers withered lay/* 
 
 The music sent a magic feeling through 
 my being. I was absorbed by it. I looked 
 not at the singer, but played till the sweet 
 song was finished. When at last I did look 
 there came upon me again that strange 
 sensation when the past was merged in the 
 present and the present in the past, when 
 childhood and youth were blended, and I 
 knew myself only as the little girl who had 
 learned to love Chotu when he taught her 
 at his uncle's Patshala. Was it really he ? 
 " Are you Chotu, are you Chotu f " Once 
 again these words come to my lips, but, 
 alas ! again as before to remain unspoken.
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 211 
 
 I heard footsteps my father was coming. 
 I rose to greet him and stood still with 
 bashfulness. My father entered and called 
 out cheerfully, " Ah, you, Binoy Krishna ! 
 Moni, do you not recognise him ? He is 
 Chotu." 
 
 Was I dreaming still ? Could this be 
 eally true ?
 
 CONCLUSION
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 THAT evening as I looked upwards I saw 
 another sky. There were the same clouds, 
 the same vibrating colours of sunset, but 
 all breathed peace and happiness, there 
 was no sorrow in the whispering breeze 
 that night. 
 
 Nor was I alone as my gaze went heaven- 
 ward that night, and the inward cry that 
 this earth knows no happiness, no smile 
 without tears, that cry that had haunted 
 me so long was stilled at last. We were 
 sitting together, Chotu and I, silently ab- 
 sorbed in the love of our young lives. To 
 me the shading of the clouds had another 
 message now. " Smiles," they whispered, 
 " would not be so precious if they had not 
 known tears, happiness would not know 
 itself if it were not born of suffering." Did 
 he think as I did, for suddenly he gave 
 expression to my silent thoughts and said 
 
 " Happiness is not happy enough, but 
 must grow by the contact of pain and fear." 
 215
 
 216 AN UNFINISHED SONG 
 
 Too much happiness made me sigh, and 
 with it came the pain of remorse. Poor 
 Romanath, if he had really loved me, I 
 had done him grave injustice. Chotu seemed 
 to feel my thoughts. He spoke somewhat 
 abruptly, saying : 
 
 " Have you heard the latest news ? 
 Kusum is to be married to Romanath. 
 What a humbug I beg your pardon 
 what an exemplary lover ! >! 
 
 I was delighted, and interrupted him in 
 my eagerness to hear more. 
 
 "Really? When?" 
 
 " A week before our marriage ? >: 
 
 The light of the newly risen moon fell 
 upon his handsome face as he spoke, and 
 I thought I had never before seen him look 
 so beautiful. The moon of the thirteenth 
 lunar day, that wanted but two digits to 
 make it full, how glorious it was ! It floated 
 like a mellow silver orb in the deep blue 
 ocean of ether. The fragrant Sephalica 
 fell around us like a rain of meteorites, 
 and the air was filled with beauty and 
 fragrance. The autumn air was mellow and 
 soft, and it flowed into our being, and all 
 was love and beauty. 
 
 It was I who broke the silent spell.
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 217 
 
 " But you, doctor, how could you ? 9 ' 
 " Doctor again ? I will not listen." 
 
 " But how could you, Chotu, cause me 
 so much pain ? When you understood 
 from my remarks that father had settled 
 my marriage with you, that very moment 
 you left me alone." 
 
 " Yes, it appeared from what you said 
 that I was the man, but I was not certain. 
 There might have been a mistake. Love 
 gets easily frightened." 
 
 " Was that the reason you left me to my 
 misery ? Is that your idea of chivalry ? " 
 
 " But don't you see, I intended to come 
 back without delay. I wished only to speak 
 to your father, and then Binoy Krishna 
 would present himself before you as Chotu." 
 
 " No doubt, that would have been charm- 
 ingly romantic, but had you no thought of 
 the misery that I underwent in the mean- 
 time ? So that was the extent of your 
 love ? " 
 
 He laughed and replied : 
 
 " And the extent of your love, my lady ? 
 You did not even recognise me, and yet 
 I knew you the first minute I saw you." 
 
 " Oh, that is small wonder. The minute 
 you came to the house you knew all about
 
 me, and then you kept your identity 
 concealed. You did not even care to speak 
 to me of bygone days. I don't think 
 you loved me so very deeply." 
 
 " Now, listen. Was I not told that the 
 lady of my heart was betrothed to another ? 
 When I found she did not even recognise 
 me, I thought it wise not to make myself 
 known to her. You do not love Chotu, the 
 friend of your childhood, you love the new 
 man, the doctor." 
 
 " And you do not love me, you love the 
 companion of your childhood." 
 
 I thought at one time that individuality 
 disappeared in love, and that love was all 
 self-abnegation, but now I find that as 
 light and shade are both required for a 
 landscape, so altercations and demands are 
 also adjuncts of love, and in this way love 
 is kept ever young. 
 
 At any rate in our lives love is full of 
 challenge. " You do not love me," I say 
 mockingly, " you love the companion of 
 your childhood." 
 
 " You do not love me," is the inevitable 
 reply. " You love the man you met at 
 your sister's house, the doctor." 
 
 And now I leave it to the judgment of the
 
 AN UNFINISHED SONG 219 
 
 reader to decide whom I have loved. Did 
 I love the companion of my childhood and 
 perceive the reflection of him in the doctor 
 whom I met again as a man and a stranger, 
 or did I love the man, and obtain the 
 companion of my childhood by accident ? 
 I love, I admit, but the question remains, 
 " Whom ? "
 
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 THE LONDON AND NORWICH PRESS, LIMITED 
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